Suil Vain
by Rapunzel215
Summary: Her heart heavy from the loss of heaven, Buffy suddenly finds herself in Fangorn Forest. She encounters an Elf and a Dwarf. What fate awaits her in Middle Earth?BtVSLotR Xover. AU Season 6 post 'Flooded', pre 'Life Serial' and post 'RotK'. BuffyLegolas
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1 

Buffy moaned as she slowly regained consciousness. As she shifted where she lay, pain lanced through her body, and she gasped. She struggled to open her eyes, but her lids felt heavy. Slowly, her eyes blinked open, and she felt a stab of alarm when all she could see was a blurry green mass above her. Wherever she was, there was very little light, and she blinked several times, attempting to bring her vision back into focus.

This wasn't the first time she had ever been knocked unconscious, and Buffy knew from experience to stay still, in case she had any serious injuries. She was pretty certain she had several, including a big dent in her head, possibly caused by a troll hammer. Her temples throbbed, and she felt nauseated for a moment. She closed her eyes and made herself take deep breaths, and waited for the feeling to pass.

At last she opened her eyes again, and her brain registered the sight of the tops of huge trees looming high above her. She felt the ground beneath her, lumpy with roots and grass and leaves. She chanced to move her head slightly to either side to confirm her suspicion that she was lying in some sort of dense forest.

Checking her limbs by flexing the muscles, and moving them around a little, she ascertained that no bones were broken, and she lifted her left arm across her chest to roll to her side before attempting to sit up. That accomplished, she took a moment to rest. She wasn't quite ready to try to figure out just why she had woken up in the great outdoors, or how she'd come to be unconscious, so she quieted her mind, and concentrated on sitting up.

Little by little, she pushed herself to a kneeling position, and breathed a sigh of relief, when no sickness or pain overtook her. Suddenly, her stomach seized up, and she doubled over, gagging, as she vomited up the contents of her stomach.

"Eww," she coughed when the sickness finally abated. She wiped her mouth, and her forehead, and swept her long hair back behind her shoulders as she took a few cleansing breaths to slow her rapid heartbeat. "Sighed in relief too soon, I guess," she muttered to herself, and she sat back on her butt and scooted away from the mess on the ground. Pushing down the panic that was starting to rise, she elected to make sure all her mental faculties were present and accounted for.

"Name, Buffy Anne Summers, check. Age: twenty. Occupation: Vampire Slayer, for which I don't get paid of course, but anyway… City of residence: Sunnydale and I don't think I'm anywhere near there, by the looks of it."

Buffy took in her surroundings once more, noting the gnarled bark, and the twisted trunks and limbs of the trees. "Where in the holy heck am I?" she inquired of the Fates as she leaned back onto a tree. This forest was like no other she had ever seen.

The air was close, so close, she felt as if she could easily suffocate. Moss grew on the looming trees and on the forest floor. Buffy started to feel apprehensive, as if she were being watched. A menacing presence seemed to hang overhead, and she shifted uneasily in her spot on the ground.

"Wherever this is, I so don't want to be here," she muttered as she looked around her with wide eyes, expecting to be set upon at any moment by… well, by something icky.

"Damn, and I don't even have a weapon!" Buffy whispered fiercely, and she heard a low, angry and inhuman growl that seemed to come from nowhere in particular and made her blood run chill. "Oookay, that's not a nice sound," she surmised frightfully. Buffy had faced countless unimaginable evils in her short life, and she couldn't believe that a bunch of trees was wigging her out this much. But instinct told her that unfriendly eyes observed her, and she rose from her seat slowly; ready to take defensive action.

Buffy cautiously walked a few paces forward, trying to find a break in the trees so she could tell how deep within this forest she was. She couldn't surmise the time of day, either, and although there was a little bit of light, which she was thankful for, she could not get a glimpse of the sky. She had no idea how she'd gotten here, nor what she had been doing prior to arriving, but the good news was, her memory of everything before that was intact. Well, if you can call being ripped out of heaven and waking up six feet underground in a box a fond memory. Buffy shook her head, determined not to let this thought drag her down as long as she was in this strange place. Once she got home, she'd let herself sink into self-pity, adding this little adventure to the long list of everything crappy that had ever happened to her.

"I could set a world record, that's for sure," she grumbled, as she made her way through the thick vegetation. She stumbled on a root, and caught her balance on, what else: a tree. "Trees, trees, and more trees," she sighed. "What I wouldn't give for a machete to whack these branches out of my way, or a nice, big battle-axe. I'd do some serious choppin' then build myself a little fire-" she stopped abruptly, as once again she heard a deep bellow, almost like a foghorn resonate all around her. The menace in the air grew palpable, and Buffy shivered. Something told her she should stop talking about hacking down the flora. This forest had some very-not-normal vibes about it, and she wouldn't be surprised if she found that she was making it angry.

"Um, nice trees, pretty trees," she called out, placating. "I would never harm a tree. Yep, I'm a tree-hugger." Where had the notion that the trees could hear her come from, she wondered? Somehow, though, it made sense in a warped sort of way. 

"Happy trees; make your trees happy trees," she quipped shakily as she trudged ahead, until she was finally rid of the notion that one of the plants would reach out a gnarled hand-like limb, pluck her off the ground, and eat her for dinner. Ever since she'd seen "Poltergeist" as a child she'd had trouble sleeping in a bed next to a window with a big tree outside. And she'd thrown away the clown doll she used to love for good measure. 

The Slayer decided to explore a little. After all, she couldn't very well stay where she was with no food or water source. Who knew how long she would be here? She couldn't expect to leave here the way she came; however that was. That was the burning question, of course. She had a hunch that she may have been patrolling the cemeteries prior to waking up here. Perhaps she had been knocked unconscious and transported to this forest for some nefarious purpose. Although as to why an enemy would simply strand her in the wilderness, Buffy was at a loss to say. 

Looking around for a discernible path, and finding none, she played 'eenie, meenie, mynie, moe' until she chose a direction in which to go. Picking up a few stray twigs, she laid them in a pattern on the ground to mark the area so she would recognize it if she accidentally went in a circle.

"Here goes nothing," she chirped somewhat doubtfully, and set off through the trees to her left.

*          *          *

After what must have been hours later, Buffy, exhausted, came upon a small clearing with a stream running through it. She sobbed in relief. This wasn't a way out of the wood, or an answer for all of her nagging questions, but it was reprieve from the endless hiking and hunger that was wearing her thin. She had only found a few bushes with berries, but was hesitant to try them. For all she knew, if the plant-life in this forest was hostile, the bushes could make their berries poisonous on a whim. In any case, even with slayer strength, she felt she couldn't have gone on much longer, but she didn't want to stop until she'd at least found water.

Collapsing to her knees, she drank greedily from the stream and splashed water over her sweat-soaked face. She brought out her legs from underneath her, and started to lean back against a mossy trunk, but stopped short, unsure if the little songs she'd made up during her trek about her love of all things green had fooled these testy trees. She felt slightly ridiculous for thinking inanimate objects had feelings, but then again, her life was just that bizarre on a regular basis anyhow.

Buffy sighed. Her life right now, at best, was sucky. She had died four months ago to save her sister and the rest of the world, and had finally found peace. She knew it had been difficult for her friends to accept the finality of her death, and that Dawnie had taken it especially hard; but she had known perfect peace at last, and it had been cruelly wrenched away from her. She had confessed only to Spike, of all people- er, vampires that she had been in a heaven, of sorts. His company was all she could tolerate lately. Even being with her sister, she felt guilty, knowing where she'd rather be, instead of with her. Dawn had been so happy to have her back, and Buffy couldn't bear to reveal the truth to her. With everyone else except Spike, she had to pretend that everything was okay, hence the "Thanks for rescuing me from hell," speech she had spouted out of obligation. She'd had to tell them something, so she appeased them with bullshit, instead of screaming and raging at her friends for what they'd done. 

"Thanks for pulling me out of heaven guys," she quipped sarcastically to whoever was listening. "It was just so boring there, you know? Feeling all safe and warm and loved and tranquil. Who needs that when you can have a life like mine? Broke, unemployed, undereducated with a teenage sister to raise all alone, and a flooded basement. Not to mention all the nightly slayage and all that goes with it. Yeah, I'm a real happy camper." Buffy's resentment boiled over, and she seethed with anger.

Adding to all of the above, Buffy still had nightmares about coming to life in her coffin: trapped and unable to breathe, having to claw her way to the surface. She doubted they'd ever go away. She would wake up, sweating and hyperventilating almost every night. She'd cried out in her sleep a few times, alarming the household; but she'd let them assume they were nightmares about her experiences in 'hell'. As if. Buffy shook her head in derision. How could her friends assume that she'd gone there? After what'd she'd sacrificed? Buffy wasn't religious, nor did she claim to be a paragon of virtue, but why would she ever be sent to hell? The walls of _all_ the dimensions, not just the hellish ones were being torn down that night. Not to mention the fact that her body had remained on Earth, unlike Angel, who'd gone body and soul into Alcathla's mouth. How could they even compare the two situations? They were like apples and oranges.

Buffy's stomach growled, and she vowed not to think of any metaphors involving food for the time being. She was hungry, weary and lost, but she couldn't help feeling a little grateful for the respite from pretending, and trying to just make it through the day without going insane from the anguish and guilt. Guilt. There it was. She felt guilty that she was so unhappy and angry with her friends for doing what they'd thought they should. They loved her after all, didn't they? And Dawn hadn't had anything to do with her resurrection, and didn't deserve her resentment. Her little sister needed her desperately. Their mother had died and their father was AWOL, and now Dawn had her sister again.

Overwhelmed by her conflicting feelings, Buffy sighed sorrowfully and leaned back against the tree, no longer caring if it got mad. Her breath had started to come in short pants, and her eyes filled with tears long unshed. They spilled down her cheeks as Buffy realized that she hadn't even so much as cried since she came back to life. Was she so wooden and dead inside now that she was incapable of human emotion? A sob burst out of her throat, and she fought for control. _Screw it!_ She thought. _I don't need to control myself here. There's no one around to care._

The Slayer let loose and wept her torment. Her sobs echoed through the dense wood, and she began to lose all control as she screamed in rage, and tore at the ground with her hands. She clawed at the moss and dirt, bringing up clumps and throwing them wrathfully. She stood up and her paroxysms continued. She wanted to tear all of her hair out and rake her nails down her face until she drew blood; she wanted to feel anything but the pain she was feeling now.

It seemed like she'd been crying for a good part of an hour before she collapsed, worn out, in a heap. Little whimpers and moans escaped her lips as she tried to catch her breath. At last, she drew in a shuddering mouthful of air, and a strange calm came over her. She lay down on the forest floor, closed her eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Gimli and Legolas had departed from their vast company of friends only two days before, to begin the promised journey through Fangorn Forest. Back when Gimli had discovered the Glittering Caves near Helm's Deep, they had vowed to explore the places that had spoken to each of their hearts. Both Elf and Dwarf had misgivings about the exchange, but a promise was a promise, and Legolas was sure to hold Gimli to his after having seen the Glittering Caves as he'd pledged.

Though Elves were not overly fond of walking underground, concealed from the light of the sky, the Prince of Mirkwood had truly admired the beauty of the gems that shimmered in the walls of the catacombs. The awe it inspired was beyond words, and seeing Gimli's pleasure at his speechlessness had made the trip more than worthwhile. He knew the Dwarf hadn't much liked Fangorn when they had first stepped into its realm looking for the errant Hobbits, but the reappearance of Mithrandir had given them a joyous memory, and Legolas hoped that would fortify his friend should he grow anxious.

He knew he shouldn't worry. Gimli was stouthearted, loyal and fierce, and very little frightened him, but he wanted his friend to be comfortable. Legolas glanced behind him to see the Dwarf several paces away, looking at the great, old trees in fascination. As an Elf, Legolas knew he had nothing to fear from these trees, although he knew some of them to be angry and antagonistic. Travelers avoided this forest altogether; preferring to chance meeting a band of orcs or goblins, rather than risk being lost in the deep of Fangorn. Their four Hobbit friends had told them of their near-demise by the roots of Old Man Willow who dwelt in The Old Forest near the Shire. He could only imagine that fate had befallen many unfortunates in the Third Age with so few Ents to keep the trees in line.

Legolas again looked at his friend and called out to him, "Are you ready to make camp Master Dwarf, or shall we continue on till nightfall?"

Gimli glanced up at his Elven comrade, and concealed the growing trepidation he'd been feeling at the tree he stood before. "Nay, Master Elf, I believe I would prefer to stop here for now," he replied. "We Dwarves are not as quick-footed as the Elves, and tend not to make long journeys on foot if we have no need to. Not to say we are not just as hearty, mind you."

Legolas laughed musically, and walked nimbly to his friend. "Then we shall camp here tonight, Gimli, as you seem weary of taking such small steps," he joked amiably, and Gimli glared at him in mock consternation. Although the two had started out with much enmity between them, as befit the tradition of their races, battle, hardship and tragedy formed a strong bond between the unlikely friends. They competed with each other, but always in good humor, which had helped them both withstand the trials of the past year.

"Why don't you use those light feet of yours to gather us some firewood, Elf? I'll put down our bedrolls and busy myself with tasks more suited for Dwarves," Gimli quipped smartly, and began to dig a small pit for the campfire, so as to not anger or threaten the surrounding trees.

Legolas laughed again, and made his way through the wood, picking up dry twigs from the forest floor. Content to be away from battle and among undisturbed nature, he began to sing softly to himself the songs his people in Mirkwood often sang of Lórien. It was spring now, and he vowed that before he returned home and then ventured back to Gondor, he would walk in that wood without a blindfold this time, and see the beauty of the _mellyrn _for himself.

He had turned back towards the camp, when his Elven ears heard a distant cry. He stilled, listening intently and heard another cry that held more sorrow than he had ever known in his long life. Dropping his bundle of twigs, he rushed in the direction of the sound, discerning as he drew closer that the voice belonged to a female. The anguished cries continued, until with a final scream of unchecked rage, they quieted. After that, he could only hear soft sobs, and he quickened his pace. It did not sound as if the voice's owner was in any sort of danger, and Legolas could sense none nearby. At last, the sobs ceased, and he walked for five more minutes before coming to a clearing by a stream.

When he broke through the trees he made an odd discovery: a young girl with golden hair lay sleeping on a bed of moss. Her body was lax with exhaustion, and her face bore the traces of tears. She was clothed strangely in tight fitting blue trousers and some kind of knitted light brown tunic with a large cowl at the neck. He silently stepped closer, and noted how tiny she was. Barely taller than a Dwarf, yet delicate and small boned like an Elf.

But what had struck him speechless more than her strange attire or her presence in the woods at all, was the unmistakable cloud of misery that surrounded her. It was a grief that reminded the Elf of the Ringbearer: his weariness and despondency that had come with a heavy burden that left him forever changed.

Legolas' heart constricted at the thought of his friend, Frodo. He and Gandalf had discussed at length the fate of the little Hobbit. Even with The Ring destroyed, Frodo would never be the same. The Elf could see on the sleeping girl the same alienation and weariness that came with having the weight of the world on your shoulders. He couldn't guess what her burden might be, but he was saddened that such a small girl had to bear it.

Legolas shook himself out of his reverie. He couldn't let this young woman sleep here unguarded and vulnerable. Quickly making the decision to take her back to camp, he came to her side and knelt, all the while moving silently, so as not to wake and frighten her. He checked her over for injuries first, and finding none, he took her up in his arms and stood to head back the way he came.

The Elf trod gently through the wood, questions whirling in his mind as to why this girl, who looked so out of place, was here alone among the dangers of Fangorn Forest. The forest lay at the foothills of the Misty Mountains, where goblins still dwelt, and he knew not if they ever ventured in here. Could she have been held captive by them for some reason and then escaped? She didn't look as if she'd spent any time in the deep caverns under the mountains as a prisoner. Her odd clothing was only a bit dirty, and her wrists bore no signs of having been bound, as any captive of the merciless goblins would doubtless have.

As he arrived at the campsite, Gimli looked up from spreading his bedroll, ready to ask what had taken the Elf so long to gather firewood, when he saw his friend carrying a girl.

"I do not think that will be fit fuel for our campfire, Master Elf. Nor does that look like any game for our dinner," Gimli said with a raised brow.

Legolas smiled wanly at his friend's comment and moved to set the girl down on his own bedroll, which had been prepared in his absence. "I found her a short distance from here, Gimli," he explained as he tenderly laid her down. "I heard a sorrowful cry and followed it to find her sleeping by a stream."

"Strange that a young girl should be alone in this forest, of all places," Gimli observed and came over to get a closer look. "She is dressed most oddly. I've never seen garb like that anywhere before."

"Nor I," Legolas agreed. "I know not why she is here, but I am certain it was her cries I heard while I was gathering the kindling." He sat down next to the foundling and crossed his knees, looking at her intently. Gimli sat down as well, observing his friend's concern. "Such cries of anguish she gave, that it nearly broke my heart to hear it," he whispered. "I'm not certain whether she had been in the throes of a nightmare, or merely wore herself out with her weeping." He looked up at the Dwarf, concern and bewilderment evident in his gaze.

Gimli merely shook his head, not knowing what to think. He had thought he heard the call of a strange sort of bird in the distance earlier, but his ears were not as perceptive as the Elf's. Still, he was getting used to being surprised, having seen many wonders and mysteries in the past year. He wondered if this meant that their ramble through Fangorn would be cut short. He knew Legolas would be disappointed, and it troubled him, but he would be glad to be out of the oppressive wood sooner than expected.

They sat in silence for a moment, watching the girl's steady breaths as she slumbered. Then Legolas stood and stated his intention to retrieve the bundle of twigs he'd dropped as well as fetch some water from the stream he'd made his discovery by. Gimli pledged to watch over their charge vigilantly, at which Legolas remarked that he'd expected nothing less from his honorable friend, and went on his way.

He returned to find the scene unchanged. Gimli reported that the girl had not stirred, and they set about to start their evening meal of the Lembas, dried meats and fruits they'd packed. They set aside a portion for the girl if she awoke and was hungry, and sat silently as they enjoyed their repast, both thoughtful of this strange turn of events.

When at last, Gimli stretched and yawned, Legolas bade him to turn in while he took the watch for the night. He did not need much sleep, and his mind was too occupied to do so in any case. Gimli laid down on his pallet, closed his eyes and was soon snoring loudly. The girl slept on, undisturbed, and throughout the night, Prince Legolas pondered what the possible twists of Fate could be that had thrown this young woman onto their path.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

Buffy drifted back into consciousness without opening her eyes. She was hoping against hope that the strange experience she'd had the night before was all a dream. She tried to envision herself at home in her own bedroom surrounded by familiarity. Even though her life was unhappy at the moment, at least she wouldn't be hiking through more cranky foliage for God knows how long.

To her dismay, instead of a soft mattress and plump pillows, she came to the realization that she was stretched out on a lumpy sort of wadding, which did little to conceal the tree roots and moss underneath it. She groaned when she heard the unmistakable, outdoorsy sort of noises you only hear when you're camping, and not sleeping in a cozy room with an open window.

Buffy froze suddenly, remembering that she had fallen asleep on the bare ground near running water. She listened intently for the sounds of the little stream that had lulled her into slumber earlier, and frowned when she didn't hear it. Stretching out her senses, she felt a strange presence, and stiffened when she realized she wasn't alone. Someone had moved her! Possibly the same someone who had brought her here in the first place, and who was leaning over her at that very moment. _Aha!_ She thought. _Well, let's just see what I'm dealing with here._

Buffy snapped her eyes open, and in a flash, tackled the figure looming above her, pinning him to the ground.

Legolas lay on his back, stunned by the girl's quick movements and strength. He'd come over when he'd heard her start to wake, and as soon as he kneeled down to check on her, her eyes flew open, and she swiftly reversed their positions in the blink of an eye.

Buffy in her fury did not take in what exactly she was seeing as she shot out several questions at once: "Who are you? Why did you bring me here? What the hell is going on, and..." she trailed off as her mind finally registered something strange about the man she held beneath her. "What's with the pointy ears?"

She stared at the leaf-shaped ears with a tilt of her head, and really looked for the first time at her 'captor'. _Beautiful_, was the first word that came to her befuddled mind. His eyes were of the most intense blue she'd ever seen, rivaled only by Spike's own. Yet, his held benevolence and wisdom where Spike's contained passion and cunning. His face was pale, and long blond hair framed features that should be outlawed due to the riots they'd cause among any group of women (or men, for that matter) who laid eyes upon him. His face held something otherworldly that she'd never encountered in all her life, and she gazed at him in fascination and wariness.

Legolas could only stare back at this tiny woman who'd pinioned him so easily. She was looking at him in bewilderment, and the sort of awe that most humans adopted when gazing upon the Firstborn of Ilúvatar for the first time.

As interesting as he found her, however, her astounding strength was making it very difficult to breathe, and he spoke to relieve his discomfort. "My Lady," he choked out. "I mean you no harm. If you will but let me up-"

At his words, Buffy snapped out of her trance. "Uh-uh. No lettin' up till I find out exactly what it is you are and why you brought me to The Wacky Woods," she uttered authoritatively.

Legolas frowned in confusion at her strange speech. She spoke the Common Tongue, but with an unfamiliar accent and her phrasing was strange to say the least. Taking as deep a breath as he dared, he replied, "I know not how you came to Fangorn Forest, my lady." He drew another labored breath. "I brought you to our camp after finding you sleeping alone and unguarded by the stream." She let up on the pressure a little at that, and Legolas continued. "As for who and what I am, I am Legolas of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil, the King of those lands. I am an Elf, one of the Firstborn-"

Buffy sat up abruptly and cut him off. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" she held up her hands. "You're telling me that you're some sort of elf? And not only that, but you're royalty?" She let loose a sharp laugh. "Okay, what's going on here?" She looked around, and noticed that a very short man wearing what looked like armor and leather and sporting a long, braided beard slept nearby. "Is there some kind of Renaissance Fair going on around here?"

Buffy stood, dusting herself off, looking for the telltale tents and minstrels that indicated a medieval gathering. Seeing none, she noticed how strange this 'elf' guy's clothes were, and that a bow and quiver lay near a tree.

"Oh, wait," she said as he opened his mouth to reply. "Are you guys in one of those groups of people that run around parks and forests doing those role playing games?" She'd run into a few of those during patrols. The first time that happened she'd come upon what she'd thought was a vampire draining someone. The Slayer had violently rent him away from his 'victim', only to realize he was human, and just pretending. They'd huffed at her in indignation and stalked away as she'd shaken her head and muttered, "Kids."

They had been playing "Vampyre", however, and this guy looked as if he'd come from the "Men in Tights" cast. "Honestly," she quipped, "I gotta say, pathetic much? It's one thing when kids do it, but-"

"I know not of these things you speak of, my lady," Legolas interrupted her impatiently. He was becoming more and more confused by her rapid speech by the moment. "No festivals are being held, and no games are being played. I assure you, I am who I say I am." Legolas had arisen from his position on the ground, confidant that she was too bemused to attack him again, and glared at her sternly.

Buffy only laughed again, and asked mockingly, "Oh, are you in character? Am I supposed to play along and talk like you or something?" She shook her head. "Not interested, Robin Hood. I want to know how to get home from wherever this Fangy Forest is now!"

Legolas ignored her demand, and eyed her incredulously. "Can it be that you have never heard of The Elder Children of Ilúvatar?" he inquired.

"The Who of the Huh?" Buffy replied, eying him in confusion.

Legolas sighed in frustration and simplified his language for this obviously ignorant girl. "Elvenkind, my lady. The Elves were the first beings to awaken in Middle-Earth."

"Again with the elves." Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I've heard of elves, you know, like the Keebler Elves from Nabisco who make cookies in a tree, or Santa's Elves at the North Pole. Are you telling me you're one of those elves, cause I think you must be high if you expect me to believe that," she snorted derisively.

Legolas bristled, puzzled again by what her odd speech meant, but he held his temper as he replied coolly, "I have never heard of The Santa Elves nor the Keebler from the Land of Nabisco."

At that, a shout of laughter burst forth from Buffy and she doubled over, guffawing at the 'elf's' reply. His seriousness as he'd uttered 'the land of Nabisco' had sent her over the edge, and just as she had cried last night for the first time since her resurrection, she collapsed on the ground in the biggest fit of giggles she'd indulged in since before her mother died.

Legolas stared in incomprehension at the young girl rolling around on the ground and cackling and guffawing in the most outlandish display he'd ever seen. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and tears of mirth streaked down her cheeks as she held her stomach and gasped for breath.

At last, her giggles subsided, and she opened her eyes to see 'Mr. Elf' staring at her as if she should be in a straight jacket, and her laughter exploded from her once again. Legolas grunted in consternation, and she made an effort to cease the flow of giggles once again, and calm down. Boy, but that had felt good, she thought, and she was almost grateful to the weirdo who'd brought her to this strange place for the release.

"Oh," she sighed. "I haven't laughed like that in a long time." Buffy wiped at her face and stood shakily, trying hard not to explode again. She bent over, bracing her hands on her knees, and breathed deeply. After a moment, she straightened up and faced the very grouchy elf in front of her. "Sorry, that was just- your face when you said-" she almost let loose again, but waved her hand and shook her head. "Never mind."

Legolas, relieved that this ignorant and obviously insane girl had ceased with her convulsions, changed the subject from Elves to the question of who she was. "May I have the distinct honor of your name, my lady?" he asked dryly.

"Huh?" Buffy was confused. If this guy didn't know who she was, why had he kidnapped her? "I'm Buffy," she replied, looking for a trace of recognition, but seeing none. _Huh, _she thought. _Maybe he's a hired goon...elf_. Stemming off another fit she repeated. "I'm Buffy Summers."

"Buffy?" Legolas sounded out the foreign appellation. "That's a very odd name."

Buffy bristled. She hated when people made fun of her name. "Same to you, Lego Blocks," she retorted.

It was Legolas' turn to be insulted, but he had to admit, the lady had reason to lash out at him. "I meant no offense," he countered calmly. "It is merely that I have never heard the like of it before. What is its origin?"

Not wanting to discuss her parents' choice of name in depth, she blew his question off and got back to the nitty gritty. "Look, buddy. Can you just please tell me why you kidnapped me, and where the hell we are?" Her moment of glee was over and her temper was beginning to rise again, and she knew her inner bitch was raring to come out.

"Again, Lady Buffy, I did not abduct you," Legolas replied. His eyes grew fierce, and Buffy took a step back, realizing that she hadn't sensed any kind of danger from this man until now. He stepped forward, towering over her. "Believe me, lady, if I wished you harm, you'd be dead by now," he whispered.

At that, Buffy just rolled her eyes. "Please," she sighed. "I've heard that one how many times? Don't threaten me, Mr. Elf. Most of the time those who threaten me end up with their asses thoroughly kicked." Buffy took a menacing step forward, and Legolas drew back in surprise at the flash of strength and mettle in her green eyes. He didn't wish to engage in combat with this girl, no matter how dangerous she thought she was. He couldn't let his ire lead him to harm her. Legolas held up his hands to diffuse the situation and attempted to explain.

"My companion and I crossed the borders of these woods but two days ago," he offered, and relaxed when he saw Buffy back down a bit.

"Go on," she encouraged while eyeing him warily.

"We were making camp last night when I heard you cry out, and I found you a short distance from here by that stream." Legolas saw her eyes widen when he confessed he'd heard her outburst, and she winced slightly. "I brought you back here to keep you safe. Many dangers abound in Fangorn, and I couldn't leave you to be harmed," he concluded sincerely, and Buffy relaxed at last.

She couldn't deny that he hadn't attempted to harm her in any way since he'd been with her. _Not that he could_, she thought derisively. Unfortunately, that meant he couldn't answer her questions about how she'd gotten here. She perked up a bit when she realized that he could tell her where exactly she was besides just the 'Fangy Forest'.

"So...you really are serious about being an elf, huh?" she asked cautiously. He frowned in response, and she got an idea that was too tempting to resist. "Sorry, but, I just have to do this," she said, and reached up and yanked on one of his ears to see if it was glued on.

"_Ai! Ha naegrant enni_!" Legolas cried, and he moved away from her in alarm, covering his injured ear with his hand. Buffy's eyes widened when she saw how red her little tug had made the skin, and she suddenly felt sheepish and a lot less confident.

"Oh, God! I-I'm sorry! It's just, I've seen a lot of weird creatures, y'know, demons and stuff, but I never believed in anything like elves or leprechauns..."

Legolas couldn't help but grow a little amused at her abashed ramblings. "Calm yourself, _tithenion._ It has happened before," he reassured her.

"Okay, so yeah, sorry about the ear pulling, but I'm just confused. I don't where I am. I mean, I know you told me the name of the forest, but where is this forest, exactly?"

"Fangorn lies at the southern foothills of the Misty Mountains, just north of Rohan and the Westfold," Legolas offered.

"Okay, that's helpful- not." Buffy muttered. "And where are those places then?"

Legolas frowned, not understanding. Where could she be from? She did not seem as if she had come out of the East or dwelt south of Gondor, but who really knew after all the bizarre behavior she'd displayed?

"Rohan is the country north and west of Gondor," he offered somewhat lamely. Buffy closed her eyes, willing her patience to last.

"Yes, I think we've established that I'm in an entirely different country than the one I started out in," she told him in measured tones. "What continent are all these countries on?" She readied herself for the answer.

"Middle Earth, my lady," Legolas replied, stunned. "Where else could you be?"

"_Middle _Earth?" Buffy repeated incredulously. "What's it in the middle of?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Buffy sat on the forest floor, dumb with shock. 'Lego Man', as Buffy had begun to mentally refer to the Elf, was attempting to explain the realm of Arda to her, but she could barely comprehend anything he was saying. She was still trying to process the concept that she had somehow been transported to a different dimension, or possibly a different planet.

After her stunned reaction to his revelation that she was now standing in a place called 'Middle Earth', the Elf had questioned her about where she had come from.

"Can it be that you are alien to this world, Lady Buffy?" he asked in bewilderment.

"I'm thinking, yeah," she replied after a moment. Buffy could only stare at Legolas, alarm evident in her features.

"Then where did you come from?" Legolas inquired softly, not quite believing it was possible that other worlds besides the ones he knew existed.

"Uh," was all that Buffy said for a moment, and then she shook herself out of her stupor. "I live in Sunnydale, California." She let go of her last hope that her answer would spark some recognition in him when she saw his blank expression. "That's in the United States," she added desperately, "of America. Which is on the continent of North America, which is on the Planet Earth, which is in the Milky Way Solar System, which is-" Buffy paused, not knowing how much further she could go from there. "Which is nowhere near here, I guess," she concluded dejectedly, and sat down heavily, a dark cloud of gloom settling over her.

Legolas paused for a moment, then squatted down and tried to look Buffy in the eyes. She seemed to be oblivious to his presence, and he was growing concerned.

"Do you not recall how you came to be here, then?" Legolas asked, but Buffy did not reply. "Lady Buffy," he called softly, his brow furrowing.

"Huh?" She seemed to awake from her trance. "Oh, no, I don't. I just woke up, and here I was," Buffy explained, and she met his eyes. Legolas grew more troubled at all the grief he saw in her green gaze.

"Are you quite well?"

Buffy stared at him and smiled bitterly. "Oh yeah, just peachy," she replied. "I'm thrilled to be yanked around to different dimensions on a whim. It's my favorite thing to do besides being branded with hot irons," she quipped sarcastically, standing up and moving away from him to lean on a tree.

Legolas started at the cynical tone of her voice. He watched her brood against the tree, staring into the distance. As he started to speak to her again, he was interrupted by a loud snort from Gimli, who had, at last, begun to stir himself.

At the noise, Buffy turned her gaze sharply to the Dwarf's form. "I was wondering whether or not your friend was still alive," she remarked apathetically.

"Eh? What?" Gimli grumbled as he turned over, and opened his eyes. He sat up when he saw the object of their curiosity was up and about. "Oh, you're awake, lass!" Gimli rose to his feet, and bowed low. "Gimli, son of Gloín at your service, and who might you be?"

"Hi," she replied blandly, and looked away. Gimli was startled at this blatantly rude reaction to his attempt at gallantry. He looked at the Elf, who glanced at him apologetically, and motioned him to his side.

"Forgive her lack of manners for the moment, Master Dwarf," Legolas said in undertones. "It seems our new friend has been thrust into our realm from quite a distance, and is completely at a loss as to how or why."

Gimli's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he looked at the lady again. "A mystery indeed," he remarked. "Sorry I am to hear that the lady is so mislaid. It cannot be easy to suddenly be in a strange land all alone." He shook his head gravely.

Buffy felt guilty for dissing the little guy before, but in the state she was in, she was finding it difficult to function. She turned around and sighed listlessly. "Look, I'm sorry I was rude just now," she offered. "I'm just so tired of-" A lump caught in her throat and she broke off and looked down. "I'm just so tired," she finished quietly.

"Well, then!" Gimli exclaimed so loudly, she jumped. "Sounds like you could use a bit of breakfast, lass. Some Lembas bread ought to make you feel a little better, and then we can try to help you, wouldn't you say, Master Elf?"

Legolas, who had been quietly observing Buffy's distress, looked up sharply at his friend's suggestion, and agreed with him wholly.

Buffy, whose stomach made its emptiness known to her at the mention of food, asked curiously, "Lembas bread? What's that?"

"The waybread of the Elves," Gimli explained as he rooted through his pack. "Normally never given to mortals, but since I am keeping company with an Elf these days, we have a supply handy."

"Since you are weary in heart and body though, lady, we would be happy to share some with you, as well as some of the dried fruits and meats we brought," Legolas added, and he joined Gimli in the setting out of provisions. Buffy's stomach rumbled even louder, and she made her way slowly over to the companions, where Gimli held out something wrapped in a packet of leaves to her.

"Go on," Gimli coaxed. "'Tis very tasty, even though it was made by Elves," he said, and chuckled at his little jibe. Buffy took the packet, and unwrapped it to reveal a yellow, crispy looking cake.

Legolas frowned at the Dwarf and said archly, "It holds many beneficial properties as well you know, Gimli." He turned to Buffy with a smile, and boasted "One being that only a small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man."

Buffy looked at the bread doubtfully. It seemed too light to be able to fill her up, no less satisfy someone like Xander, who had the capacity of a Hoover vacuum. "What's in it?" she inquired. If what they told her was true, she figured it probably had a high fat content.

Legolas smiled. "It is ever kept secret, by the _Yavannildi_, Lady Buffy. Elven maidens of _Yavanna_, one of the Valar." Buffy just looked more confused, so he assured her, "It gives strength to those who eat it. Try some," he encouraged gently.

Buffy shrugged. Did it really matter if she gained a few? No doubt she'd be walking it off afterwards, anyway. She broke off a small piece and placed it in her mouth. She looked up in surprise when she discovered she liked the taste. _Kinda like cornbread_, she thought, and took another bite.

Legolas tried to suppress a smug grin when he saw her face lighten a little with pleasure. He picked up another packet of waybread for himself, and was about to give Buffy another fact about Lembas, when he turned to see that she had polished off the entirety of the two cakes she had been handed, and was brushing the crumbs from her hands.

"That was good. Got anymore of that stuff?" she asked, somewhat cheekily. She was a little astonished to find that her spirits had lightened a little, and her body felt much less lethargic than before. She stifled a laugh when she saw Gimli and Legolas staring at her mutely.

At last, Gimli recovered from his shock, and laughed, "Certainly, lass. Always liked a woman who could eat like a man."

Legolas intercepted the waybread before Buffy could take it from the Dwarf, however, stating that they had only brought enough for the two of them, and hadn't expected any company. "For we do not know what we are to do now that you have joined us. Our journey may take us farther than we expected and we may run out of provisions if you eat like Gimli," Legolas said, not unkindly, and the Dwarf in question chuckled.

Buffy frowned at his implication that she was some sort of glutton, but he ignored it and continued to speak.

"If we are to assist in finding your way, perhaps you could tell us what happened to you before you found yourself in Middle Earth," Legolas suggested. "I realize you do not know how you got here, so it must not have been your intention to do so."

"No, it sure wasn't," Buffy agreed forlornly. "I had definite plans to stay just where I was." She blanched at the irony of that statement, considering she hadn't wanted to be back in Sunnydale at all.

"Do you remember what happened?" Gimli asked.

Buffy wracked her brain, trying to recall the events prior to her waking up in the forest. "I had come home last night after meeting with a…friend," Buffy's spirits fell a bit, recalling her reunion with Angel. It had been a very awkward and sorrowful encounter. Angel had been so happy to see her, and she had thrown herself into his arms, seeking comfort, but she was unable to find any. Not that Angel hadn't been his loving and compassionate self, but Buffy couldn't seem to jolt her deadened emotions as she had hoped to do. He knew something was terribly wrong, but Buffy didn't enlighten him as to her whereabouts in the afterlife. It was almost as if he hadn't wanted to know, and she pulled away from him, ending the meeting abruptly.

Buffy shook herself from her dreary thoughts and continued, "Then I went out for a patrol- uh, stroll." _Whoops_, she thought. _Let's not reveal too much about our nighttime activities, Buffy_. After all, as kindly as these two were behaving toward her, she didn't really know anything about them.

Buffy mentally recounted her steps after she'd left the house the night before. She'd gone to Spike's cemetery first, seeking his company. He hadn't been in his crypt, so she'd done a quick sweep of the grounds before heading out through town, and to the warehouse district where her friends told her vamp activity had been growing. After dusting a nest of vamps, she'd gone to the next graveyard, a newer one. Sunnydale was running out of room, and a new plot of land had been designated for burial grounds. Buffy thought that was unnecessary, seeing as how roughly half the graves in town were empty due to newly born vampires having vacated so many of them over the years; but then again, the town's authorities were most likely keeping that fact covered up nicely by pretending those empty graves were happily occupied. She remembered thinking how much easier her job would be if people just cremated their dearly departed. Anyone who had been turned would be taken care of right away, and she could work on reducing the number of already established vampires in town. Then, maybe, she'd have a little more free time, and she could rest. Her heart had constricted, thinking of the rest she'd been unjustly robbed of, and her thoughts had turned maudlin.

Soon after her resurrection, Buffy had been ready to commit suicide on the very tower she'd jumped from, but Dawn had arrived, and they'd both been in danger of plummeting from the rickety structure. Buffy's instincts kicked in, and saving her sister took priority. After that, Buffy had been so disoriented and blank inside until the next day, when she had to make her friends believe she was okay. As she sat on a tombstone, she pondered the consequences of taking her life, but she was so unsure that the results would be positive. Would she go back to where she'd been, or would that send her soul to some kind of purgatory? Either way, her friends would probably just yank her back out again, she remembered thinking bitterly, and so what would be the point?

Her recollections became fuzzy after that, and she could remember nothing more. Looking back at the Elf and Dwarf, who were waiting patiently for her to answer, she shrugged. "I don't know. I remember going out, but nothing unusual happened," _For me, that is_, she mused. "Then it gets blurry all of a sudden, and there's no memory there." She stared at the ground, frowning in frustration. No doubt the Scooby Gang back home would be on the case, as soon as they realized she was missing. _Poor Dawnie_, she thought. Her sister must be frantic. Her friends would likely have no reason to think she'd fallen into another dimension. Buffy didn't know if some demon had done this, or if any traces of her were left behind, or if any spell existed that could locate her. They'd be at the Magic Box sooner or later, deep in research mode, and who knew how long it would take them to come to the right conclusion?

_Nope,_ Buffy concluded to herself. _I'm just gonna have to try to get some help from someone here._ In a moment of odd humor, she pictured herself in a pair of ruby slippers, chanting "There's no place like home, there's no place like home," over and over until she woke up in her own bed, her friends surrounding her. "I went to the strangest place," she'd say. "And you, and you, and you were there," Of course, she hadn't met a scarecrow that reminded her of Xander, or a Tin Man, or a witch-

Buffy's thoughts came to a halt. _Do they have witches here?_ she wondered. It was likely, since they had elves. "Um, do you guys know anything about magic?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 

Legolas watched Buffy closely as she sat, trying to remember what had occurred prior to her arrival in Middle Earth. Just as he could see the aura of unhappiness about her, he could also tell she was harboring many dark secrets. Again, he was reminded of the Ringbearer. He decided he would not attempt to make her reveal what burdened her so. Elves were a very secretive and close people. They did not give anything about themselves away lightly, and Buffy resembled an Elf in that sense. She kept her deeper feelings locked up inside; but whereas an Elf could more easily bear his sorrow, Buffy was in danger of imploding with hers. Legolas surmised that were she indeed of his race, she would waste away like those who died of grief.

When he heard her question regarding magic, he furrowed his brow. "What kind of magic do you speak of?"

"You know, spells and stuff," she explained. "In my world, some people practice magic. They use spells to make things happen, like when they're in danger, or to find an answer. Although sometimes, spells can really backfire and you find yourself in even more trouble than you were before." _And the next thing you know, you're French kissing your mortal enemy_, Buffy mused.

Legolas and Gimli were silent for a moment, as they looked to each other, unsure of how to answer. Buffy felt as if she had hit on a taboo subject, and probed the waters. "Um, was that question a no-no?" Baffled expressions were the only response to that inquiry, so she elaborated. "I'm getting the feeling you either, A: don't know what the heck I'm talking about, or B: are offended, and want me to shut my mouth right now. Either way, the uncomfortable silence is giving me the wiggins."

Legolas responded as best he could to her puzzling speech. "Forgive us, Buffy. No offense was taken, we are just uncertain of how to answer you." At Buffy's relaxed manner, he continued. "It is difficult to explain what magic is to us, for it is a part of our everyday lives. For Elves, anyway," he concluded with a wry glance at Gimli.

"Dwarves have their own magic, Master Elf," Gimli replied with an ersatz growl. "You Elves don't have exclusive domain over all of it, Firstborn of Ilúvatar or not."

"I must end this debate before war is upon us," Legolas laughed. "Please forgive my callous remark, Friend." He turned back to Buffy, who was watching the exchange with amusement. "Magic is common amongst many peoples of Middle Earth," he amended. "Not all, mind you, but I suppose most are aware of the existence of its power."

"Aye," Gimli added. "And if they weren't before, they ought to be now. What with all the goings on of this past year."

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked.

"A great war has been waged and won against a most formidable enemy," Legolas explained. "To have lost would have meant the death of all free people."

"In other words, you guys have just averted an apocalypse," Buffy interpreted.

"Apocalypse?" Gimli pronounced the unfamiliar word. "What means this?"

"It means the end of the world, basically," Buffy answered nonchalantly.

"Yes, then, we have indeed averted an apocalypse," Gimli concluded. 

_Wow,_ Buffy thought. _I missed the apocalypse. That's a first. That can't be why I'm here, then._ Earlier, Buffy had briefly wondered if she had been sent here to help in preventing some world-ending catastrophe, but apparently she hadn't been needed for that. 

Legolas' voice interrupted her thoughts. "Why did you want to know about magic, Buffy?"

"Well, I figure that must be how I got here. People just don't pop in and out of different dimensions on their own…usually. Some kind of outside force must have pulled me here," Buffy explained.

"What reason would anyone have for doing that?" Legolas asked doubtfully.

Buffy could think of a few reasons, none of which she felt like sharing at the moment. "Don't know," she replied instead. "But the town I come from has a lot of mystical energy in it, and weird things tend to happen there." _There's the understatement of the century_, Buffy thought wryly. 

"I see," replied Legolas, who was actually very baffled by this girl's reticence and the contradictions of her world. "Will you not tell us more of yourself so that we may help you, Buffy?"

Buffy looked at the Elf, and opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came. She honestly didn't know where to begin. "It's complicated," she said at last.

"Much of life is, I suppose," Gimli commented. "But shouldn't we be moving on from here, Friend Elf? What little light this forest lets in will only last as long as the day, and if we are to help the lass, I suppose we should head out of here and back to Isengard and our horses."

"What's this, Gimli?" Legolas asked amusedly. "Ready to leave Fangorn so soon? And after you pledged to walk it with me after I explored the Glittering Caves with you." He shook his head, grinning. "I always thought you Dwarves were much more stouthearted than to let a few close trees unnerve you."

"None of that!" cried Gimli in his defense. "I do not back down on my promise to you, I merely think that the lass has need of us, and she may not be disposed to delay returning to her world to trek through a forest with us."

Legolas laughed and clapped the Dwarf on the shoulder. "Right you are, I suppose," he conceded. "However, when the Lady Buffy is safely on her way home, we shall take up where we left off. Are you agreed?"

"Agreed," Gimli consented, albeit begrudgingly. "Well, young lady, shall we be off, then?" he asked as he stood up.

"I guess," Buffy replied uncertainly. She was relieved when Gimli suggested they make their way out of this place. The stifling air was enough to make anyone uneasy, and she could see the Dwarf felt the same way. "I mean I don't want to put you guys out or anything. You obviously had plans, and you're not obligated to help me." Buffy sincerely hoped they would help her however, seeing as she had no clue where to go from there.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Gimli, and he pulled Buffy to her feet. "What would you do all alone and helpless in a strange land?" he laughed.

Buffy bristled a little at the word 'helpless' but held her tongue. She did appreciate the fact that two total strangers were willing to lend a hand without asking for anything in return. "So where to?" she inquired.

"Yes, Master Elf, where shall we seek assistance?" Gimli echoed. "The wizard said he would be far from here by now, accompanying the Hobbits to the borders of The Shire."

Legolas nodded, as he packed up his belongings. "Yes, Mithrandir is in The Old Forest with Tom Bombadil most likely, and I do not know how long he planned to stay."

"There's a wizard?" Buffy asked, her eyes widening. She'd had a little trouble following the conversation up to this point, but her ears picked up 'wizard' with no problem. More and more she was feeling like Dorothy Gale, from Kansas. All she needed was a basket and a little terrier, and she'd be set.

"Gandalf the White is a great friend to the free peoples of Middle Earth, and is very powerful," Legolas explained. "He may be able to help you, Buffy, but he is very far from here." At Buffy's disappointed expression, he stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Despair not, _tithenion_, we have many knowledgeable and powerful friends we may consult with. But do not expect answers anytime soon. We have very far to travel before we reach them."

"Another wizard?" Buffy asked. "And what did you just call me, anyway?" She guessed he'd uttered some sort of endearment, and it rankled her a little.

Legolas flushed slightly worried he would offend her. "I called you 'my little one' in Elvish, lady."

"Little!" Buffy exclaimed. "I'm taller than he is!" She pointed at Gimli who 'harrumphed' as she fumed. "I'm not a baby, for goodness' sake!"

"Forgive me, _Brennil nín," Legolas apologized as he tried not to laugh. "I meant nothing by it."_

"What did you call me just now, Mr. Elf?" she asked suspiciously.

"I merely addressed you as 'my lady', my lady," Legolas responded. _Truly, this girl takes offense at the strangest things_, he thought.

Buffy shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Well…don't, okay? It's just Buffy," she stated, and then smirked. "Or Summers, if you're nasty," she couldn't help adding. "Oh, never mind," she said before Legolas could question that last statement.

Legolas hefted his bedroll and supplies over his shoulders and Gimli did the same. "I see, Buffy. I will not address you as anything else except by your leave," he promised, and began to walk in the direction they had come from the evening before.

"Okay," Buffy replied, feeling rather sheepish for snapping at him. "I'm sorry, I'm just kind of freaked out by all this." She fell into step with the Elf and the Dwarf. "You guys are being really nice, and I've been nothing but bitchy."

"Say nothing of it, Buffy, daughter of Summers," Gimli reassured her. "That is an unusual name for a man, Summers," he commented.

"Huh? Oh, no, that's my last name. My dad's name is Hank. But if you're going to introduce me like that, use my mom's name, Joyce. I don't really speak to my dad at all," Buffy stated sadly.

Legolas looked at Buffy in surprise. She had volunteered some information about herself, which was something that explained at least a little of the sadness that permeated her being. He thought perhaps he'd try to draw her out a little more.

"Indeed? You have left his house, then?"

Buffy snorted in response. "More like he left our house," she corrected. At Legolas' puzzled frown, she explained. "My parents split up when I was fifteen, and my mom, my little sister and I moved away after he'd left us. He used to spend time with us a few years ago, but…" she trailed off.

"But what?" the Elf prodded.

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know. He got all caught up in his job and his very young secretary," Buffy said bitterly. "When he didn't even bother to show up for my mom's funeral, though, that was the last straw," she muttered softly, but the Elf heard her words.

Legolas gained more insight into this young girl's troubles. "He left you alone with a young sister? Truly, that is-" he stopped himself, not wanting to be insulting, although Buffy's father certainly deserved it.

"Go ahead, you can say it," Buffy prompted. "It's despicable. I was twenty years old, and found myself having to become a mother to my fourteen-year old sister. I don't know what'll happen to her if I don't get back."

Gimli shook his head solemnly at this. He had not commented thus far, but Buffy's sorrow spoke to his heart, and he vowed to do everything he could to help her. "We'll do our best to get you home, lass," he said.

Buffy turned and smiled sadly at the Dwarf. "I guess that's all anybody can do," she replied, and trudged on ahead of her companions.

*          *          *

By the evening, they had come close to the borders of Fangorn. Legolas and Gimli were surprised, to say the least, by the pace Buffy had set. She walked quickly, and did not tire easily or need to stop very often, as they had thought she would. She hadn't spoken much, only when necessary, and Legolas sensed she regretted revealing the little she had about her life. Feeling nighttime approach, he scouted ahead for a clearing, and signaled for his companions to stop when they caught up with him.

"We shall make camp here for the night," he said, taking his pack from his shoulders and dropping it on the ground. "Buffy, can you find us some firewood?"

The girl in question was about to sit down when this request was made. She stood back up, and dusted off her hands. "I don't think I should chop down any trees," she stated in a whisper. "Maybe I'm just out of my mind, but I don't think the trees like it too much."

Gimli grumbled, "Why do you think I hide my axe away, lass? This forest is full of rancor for such weaponry."

Buffy started in surprise. "You mean it's not just me? The trees don't like anyone?"

"The forest has gone wild of late," Legolas replied, as if that explained everything.

"Yeah, um, aren't they usually?" Buffy asked, perplexed.

Legolas smiled meaningfully. "There are too few Treeherders to keep them in line, but fortunately Treebeard has been vigilant in his work." He turned from her and continued with his preparations for camp.

"Oh, well that explains that," Buffy quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes," Legolas said, ignoring the jibe. "Please pick up some fallen branches from the forest floor, and make sure they're dry." Buffy frowned at his condescending tone, and turned to go do as he asked. "Hurry, please!" he called after her.

"Stupid Elf, he's not the boss of me," Buffy mumbled. Picking up sticks had not been on her agenda. She had been hoping to find a stream somewhere nearby to wash up in, since she hadn't had a shower in two days and felt disgusting. Roughing it just wasn't her thing. She hadn't much enjoyed the lack of bathroom facilities either, and wondered what she would find once they reached civilization.

Buffy was no stranger to having to answer nature's call in the great outdoors. Many times she had been on patrol when she was seized with a sudden urge, and had to retreat to the bushes to take care of it as fast as possible, all the while hoping she wouldn't be caught by some vamp with her pants down. Mostly though, she'd followed her mother's advice whenever she went out: always go before you leave the house even if you think you don't have to.

Carrying a bundle of the requested kindling back to the clearing, she wondered why they needed a fire. The air in this forest was stifling, and she certainly didn't need to sweat more than she already was. They had food ready to eat, so it wasn't for that, she knew. The only other purpose she could think of was to keep away nasties, as Spike would say, and that made her a bit nervous.

Not that she was worried about being able to protect herself. Even without a weapon she was quite deadly. She just wasn't sure how wise it would be to reveal her Slayer status to her new acquaintances. The 'helpless female' act didn't really suit her though, and she was lousy at putting it on. She came to the conclusion that should the occasion arise, she'd show her stuff, if for no other reason than to demonstrate that Lego Man and Gimli didn't need to coddle her or worry about her safety.

She deposited her collection in front of the Elf, who was unrolling his pallet on the ground. "Here you go, a bunch of sticks for Lego Man," she stated proudly.

Legolas frowned at the nickname she had given him and stood. "Thank you. Now dig a hole, if you will, and start a fire, please," he requested sternly and brushed past her to get out some food.

"Uh, I don't know how to start a fire like that," Buffy told him. "Plus I'm a firm believer that men dig the holes, and women have the babies."

"Buffy, we are willing to help you find your way home from here, but in return you must pull your weight," Legolas explained patiently as he turned toward her. "I realize you may not be as used to rough living as Gimli and I are, but since you under our protection there is no other way you can be of use. Were we attacked during the night, you would not be able to help fight for our survival. Please just grant me this small request."

_That's it!_ Buffy fumed internally, and set her hands on her hips. "Let me tell you something right now, Leggy. I would be more useful fighting against nasties than I would in what you obviously think is a 'woman's place'." She bristled when the Elf smiled in disbelief. "You think I'm kidding, Elf Boy?" She stalked over to Gimli who was pulling items out of his pack and watching the exchange with interest. "Got an extra axe there, Gim?"

The Dwarf's eyebrows shot up, but he smiled and handed her his favorite weapon out of his pack. "It's quite heavy, though lass, be careful-" he began to tell her, but stopped when she tossed it up in the air and caught it deftly by the handle.

The forest shook with the angry bellows of the trees, but this time Buffy just rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up! I'm not gonna do any chopping, alright?" she shouted, and proceeded to demonstrate her skill with the axe by going through a few practice swings, and then finished with a flourishing throw. The axe whirled through the air and landed with a _thunk_ at Legolas' feet, the blade piercing the ground.

Silence permeated the group as the two males stared at Buffy, quite astonished at her ability and accuracy. Finally, Gimli spoke: "You're quite adept at putting an Elf in his place, my dear," he said with a chuckle. "Good for you."

Buffy just looked at Legolas, a challenge in her eyes, from which he happily backed down. "Again, it appears I have offended you, Buffy. However, you have not exactly been forthcoming about yourself, so how was I to know?"

"You weren't," Buffy sighed. "I guess I just get cranky when I'm coddled." She strode forward and pulled the axe from the ground. "Just believe me when I say I can handle myself." She turned and walked over to Gimli, who happily accepted his axe back from her.

"I'll give you this other axe to carry, Buffy, should we run into trouble. Not because it is smaller, mind you, but the one you wielded so skillfully just now was a favorite of my father's." He risked antagonizing the trees and held it up. Buffy could see a few gems glittering in the handle, and she admired its deadly beauty. "This was taken from the hoard at Lonely Mountain after the dragon, Smaug was slain. A gift from Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain before he died. It is my preferred choice of weapon."

"Thanks, Gim," Buffy replied, taking the smaller axe offered to her. "I take no offense, since I understand the sentimental value of some weaponry," she told him, thinking of her beloved stake, Mr. Pointy.

She stuck the axe in her belt at the back of her jeans, and picked up the discarded firewood. Walking over to Legolas who was eyeing her warily, she extended the proverbial olive branch. "Look, why don't I do the digging and you can do the rubbing?" she suggested, and then blanched, as she realized how that must have sounded. "Uh, I mean, get the fire going. I didn't earn a campfire badge in Girl Scouts."

Legolas quirked an eyebrow and accepted the bundle from her. He bit back a laugh at the way she seemed to go from hostile to friendly in the blink of an eye. This girl was shrouded in mystery, and he'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't a little more intrigued with every new discovery.

As they worked on the campfire, Buffy turned to Gimli curiously, as he relaxed and watched them munching on some lembas and dried meat.

"So, dragons, huh?" Buffy inquired. "You've got all manner of fairy tale stuff around here," she observed, thinking that Giles would be dizzy with delight. She felt a pang at the thought of her Watcher, but pushed it down, determined not to make her escorts ask questions.

"Fairy tales?" Gimli repeated. "I don't know what you mean by that, but yes, there are many strange creatures in Middle Earth. Dragons being all but extinct nowadays. Do you not have these things in your world?"

"Well, we have creatures that are very dangerous, and considered supernatural," Buffy searched for a way to explain. "But the world at large isn't exactly aware that they exist. In fact, mostly it's kept pretty hidden."

"You are aware, however?" Legolas inquired.

"Well, yeah, considering the town where I live," Buffy replied. "It's kinda hard not to notice, although most of the residents are in severe denial."

"Are the Elves you spoke of before included in this population?" Legolas asked, referring to Buffy's earlier remark.

"Huh?" Buffy stared at him in confusion for a moment, and then realization dawned on her and she laughed, remembering her giggle fit. "No, uh, those are just imaginary. They're made up stories to tell to children, and stuff like that." She wasn't sure how to explain corporate advertising using cartoon pixies, though, so she didn't mention the Keebler Elves of Nabisco. "No, no elves in my world, as far as I know," she finished.

Suddenly, the sticks Legolas had been rubbing together made a spark, and he threw them in the shallow pit with the rest of the kindling, and he and Buffy stood up and joined Gimli on the log he sat upon. They helped themselves to food, and when they were finished, Buffy stretched and yawned, ready for sleep.

"I'll take the watch again tonight, friends," Legolas told them. "Get some sleep. You may use my bedroll again, Buffy."

"Thanks, but um, you won't need any shut-eye yourself?" Buffy asked quizzically.

Legolas grinned. "Elves do not need to sleep as Men do," he explained.

"And when they do slumber, they do so with their eyes open," Gimli added as he made himself comfortable on his bedroll.

"Oh? That's really…kinda creepy actually," Buffy commented as she lay down on her side. Hoping she wouldn't ever have to witness that, she closed her eyes, looking for rest.

Legolas observed her for a moment, and then reached for his quiver. He drew out the arrows and sang softly to himself as he inspected the arrow tips by the firelight, fixing any broken or dull ones.

Buffy's ears caught the sound of his voice, and the soft dulcet tones of an Elvish lullaby lulled her to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 

Rupert Giles sat in the office of the Magic Box, contemplating whether or not to telephone the Watcher's Council in London. The Slayer had disappeared with barely a trace, and her friends were beside themselves, trying to discover what had become of her. Their efforts had yielded no results, but Giles couldn't be sure if the Council would be help or a hindrance.

Two nights prior, the four other residents of the house on Revello Drive went to bed thinking Buffy would be back from patrol very late. Having only just returned from her meeting with Angel (which she refused to talk about), she had gone straight out after dinner, and had not yet returned by the time the household retired.

Giles had awakened at three o'clock in the morning on the living room couch when he heard the door open. Instead of seeing his surrogate daughter come into the room, he opened his eyes to find the platinum blond vampire standing before him, Buffy's coat in his hand.

"Found this on a tombstone, Rupert," Spike said, explaining his presence in the house. "Thought the Slayer might like to have it back."

Giles sat up, rubbing his eyes. "How did you get in, Spike?" he inquired tiredly.

"Have a key," the vampire replied. "Used it over the summer, you know that."

Giles nodded, remembering that Dawn had insisted her sworn protector be given a spare key. He stood and took the coat from the vampire. "You found this in a cemetery, you say?"

"Yeah," Spike leaned against the living room doorway. "Figured she must have taken it off to dust a few vamps without gettin' it all dirty." He glanced around the darkened house, and made his way into the kitchen. "She around, by the way?"

"Er, I don't know," Giles replied, frowning. "She hadn't come back by the time I went to bed, I know that." He followed Spike to the now-bright kitchen, blinking as his eyes adjusted. "You didn't see her on patrol?"

"Nope," Spike answered as he searched the refrigerator for a snack. "I headed down to the warehouse district to get rid of a nest of vamps, but found only dust." He pulled out a Tupperware container of cold Buffalo wings and peeked inside it. "She must have gotten there before me. I went to a few different graveyards after that, but didn't see hide nor hair of her."

"And you came upon the coat just now?" Giles asked.

"Er, yeah," Spike replied, looking away as he gnawed on a spicy chicken wing. Truthfully, he'd gone back to his crypt to see if she'd gone there, but he wasn't about to reveal to the Watcher that his Slayer had been spending a lot of time with the vampire in his home.

He'd caught a trace of her scent when he'd gotten in the door. It seemed as if she'd stopped in and left a moment later when she realized he wasn't in. That was when he'd gone to her home.

Giles placed the coat over a chair and turned to leave the room. "I'll just check her room. I'm sure she's probably gone to bed," he muttered, and headed in that direction. He quietly climbed the stairs, and walked to Buffy's door, knocking on it softly. Hearing no answer, he eased the door open, and his eyes scanned the darkened room. She wasn't there. Her bed was made, and the windows were closed. Giles knew she still sometimes climbed out of the window to go on patrol out of habit and would leave it cracked so she could get back in. But no, he'd seen her leave by the front door anyhow.

His brow furrowing, he proceeded to check the bathroom and all the other upstairs rooms, careful not to disturb any of the sleeping occupants. Making his way downstairs, he was startled to see Spike waiting at the bottom, and staring up at him intently.

"She's not anywhere upstairs," Giles told the vampire. "Perhaps we should look-"

"She's not here," Spike interrupted. "I checked the basement and outside while you went up there."

"I see," Giles replied, concern beginning to crease his brow. "I'll go and wake Willow and Tara and tell them we're going out to look for her." Giles turned and started back up the stairs.

"Don't tell the Niblet," Spike whispered urgently. "Don't want her gettin' all worried."

Giles nodded and dressed; five minutes later, he knocked on the witches' door and informed them of the situation before he and Spike left the house, armed and determined. They split up to look for the errant Slayer, their searching turning up very little. After looking all over town, and the many sites Buffy frequented on her rounds, Spike went back to the graveyard where he'd found Buffy's coat. Approaching the tombstone it had lain across, he sniffed the air to see if her blood had been spilled. Coming up with nothing, he looked for anything else he might have missed, and his eyes fell upon something in the grass. Picking up the wooden stake, he recognized it as her favorite: Mr. Pointy.

He turned abruptly and dashed back to Revello. Even in her apathetic state of mind, he knew she wouldn't leave that favored weapon carelessly on the ground. The trepidation that he'd pushed down since discovering her coat earlier rose to the surface, and he knew something had happened to her. He held on to a shred of hope that perhaps she'd returned to the house in his absence.

All the lights were on when he got back to the house, and his unbeating heart sank when he walked in the door. The entire household was awake, Dawn included, and Xander and a sleepy Anya had joined Willow, Tara and Giles as they discussed theories and made phone calls.

The group had fallen silent when they heard the door open, and they glanced up hopefully. However, when they saw Spike standing alone, the discarded stake in his hand, their faces fell. The vampire made his way to the Slayer's sister who was huddled despondently on the sofa. He sat down next to her, and she attached herself to his side almost immediately.

No one slept the rest of that night. They argued over their options, and at last Willow decided to do a locator spell. Giles' eyes had shown his blatant disapproval when she announced her intention, but he could see no other choice than to allow it. Wary of her cavalier attitude towards magic, he had been feeling very uneasy around the redhead since their heated argument after he returned from England..

The spell, done over a map of Sunnydale, had not revealed anything to them. Had Buffy run away or been kidnapped? The possibilities began to pile up, as Willow performed the spell once more on the Sunnydale map, and then on a map of the United States, both without success. Panic began to overtake a few of the Scoobies, and Giles took charge.

He called Angel to alert him of the circumstances, and asked if he'd heard from her at all, but the ensouled vampire hadn't seen her since he'd parted company with her earlier that evening. After promising the very worried Angel to keep him in the loop, Giles hung up the phone, and saw all the anxious eyes that looked at him for an answer. Not finding the one they sought, the gang hurriedly got back to work.

Now, two and a half days later, their efforts appeared to be all for naught. No traces of the Slayer besides the coat and the stake were found; no footprints led away from the spot where they knew she had been last. It was as if she had disappeared into thin air.

*          *          *

The night was quiet, and Legolas returned from his walk around the perimeter of their campsite to sit on his earlier perch. The Elf had not sensed any menacing presences nearby, for which he was thankful. Even though Sauron had been destroyed and his minions scattered, he and Gimli knew to be prepared. Bands of orcs and Uruk-Hai still roamed Middle Earth, bereft of their Master's will, but still deadly. Although it was doubtful that any would venture this close to Isengard with the Ents still guarding the area, it was best to remain vigilant.

Gimli snored noisily, and Legolas smiled to himself. He had certainly found a true friend in the Dwarf, and when at last he sailed for the Grey Havens, it was clear he would miss Gimli terribly. It was unlikely that the Valar would allow a Dwarf to set foot in Valinor, but Legolas planned to hold off his departure for many years yet, so he tried not to dwell on it.

The Sea still called to him, but so far from the shore was he that it did not trouble his heart too much. Legolas had many places in Middle Earth he desired to walk in, and numerous duties to fulfill. He sighed, thinking that he ought to return to his responsibilities in his native realm. His father surely had need of him to lead their guard against any that threatened Mirkwood's peace, but for some reason, he was reluctant to go.

The quest he'd embarked on in the last year had stirred in him the deep desire to explore new places, and he felt that going back to Mirkwood and back under his father's command would stifle the dreams now taking shape in his heart. Thranduíl would most likely be displeased that his son would prefer to wander far from home, but he would not stand in his way.

Legolas was awakened from his reverie by a disturbing sound. Glancing up, he saw Buffy lying on her pallet, still in slumber, but tossing fitfully and groaning. He sat still, waiting to see if it would pass, but she began to speak softly, and the Elf could just make out her words.

"What…oh, God, no…" she moaned, and her hands came up in front of her as if to push against an invisible wall. "No…no!" she cried, and her hands curled into fists as she pounded on the unseen obstacle. Legolas watched, transfixed, as her breathing became rapid and she thrashed in her nightmare, crying out, "I can't breathe, can't breathe, no air, can't breathe!"

She began to claw frantically at the air above her. "Oh, God, oh, God…have to…get out, let me out, let me out, let me OUT!" With a final shout, she sat straight up, eyes flying open, but the Elf could tell she still dreamt. She drew in great gulps of air, and began to weep.

"Gone…it's gone," she sobbed, and Legolas' heart constricted when he saw and heard the blatant despair on her face and in her voice. He crept silently over to her, taking care not to wake her suddenly, and knelt down beside her quivering form.

She stared straight ahead; tears streaking down her cheeks, her arms wrapped around herself protectively, as she shook her head and muttered. "Ripped out… ripped… no…why? Why…It's gone…lost…"

Legolas instinctively drew her into his arms and tenderly held her to his chest. He began whispering soothingly into her ear in Elvish. "Hush, _tithenion_. _Avosto_. You are safe. _Sedho_." Her breathing began to slow, and she calmed. He began to sing very softly, the lullaby that had soothed her to sleep earlier that night. He drew back a little, to see if she slept, and was surprised when he met her eyes, no longer unseeing, but lucid and sad.

They held each other's gaze for a moment. She stared up at him, her head still cushioned on his chest, and he stared into her green eyes, offering what comfort he could with his own blue ones. At last, Buffy broke their connection and pulled away slowly to lie back down on the pallet. Turning onto her side, he saw her close her eyes to shut both him and the world out, and chanced to reach out a hand to smooth away the golden strands of hair that stuck to her tearstained cheeks. She did not flinch or push him away. 

Still watching her, he stood and moved away to sit by the fire, close enough to her to be of comfort, but not so close it would alarm her. _By the Valar, what has been done to this child?_ he wondered to himself. Then he reconsidered his choice of words; from the look he'd seen in her eyes, she was hardly a child in spite of the mere twenty years to which she had laid claim. Her terrified mutterings made it seem as if she had been through the fires of Mount Doom itself, and her sense of loss echoed through his soul.

Glancing over at Gimli, he saw that the Dwarf hadn't once stirred. Legolas shook his head, thinking that Gimli could sleep through an entire battalion of Rohirrim soldiers thundering by.

The Elf knew he would not question Buffy in the morning, but leave the task of enlightenment completely up to her. Whatever troubled her ran deep, and only time would enable her to reveal her secrets; Legolas somehow understood that the key to her reasons for coming to Middle Earth lay within those secrets, and until she gave them voice, would not find the answers she sought.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 

Buffy emerged from the trees of Fangorn and stepped out onto the open fields of Rohan. At long last, they were out of the oppressive forest and she drew in a deep, cleansing breath. The tension remaining from her nightmare left her body, and she stretched, closing her eyes, and sighed in relief.

Buffy had awoken that morning feeling exhausted; the gloom from her dark dreams hung over her like a shroud, and she kept silent as she and her companions prepared to continue their journey. She was grateful that neither Legolas nor Gimli attempted to make her speak, although they did urge her to eat a little lembas when she initially refused breakfast. She was discomfited that Legolas had witnessed her distress, but at the same time, she was glad he had been there.

Remembering the comfort she had found from his embrace and his soft words, she had to fight back tears, thinking it was the first time anyone had held her after her night terrors. She had kept all her friends at arm's length, too afraid to accept their solace in case she accidentally revealed her secret. At the same time, she thought that her friends preferred not to know exactly what troubled her. They seemed to want to return to their existence as if she had never died in the first place.

With Legolas, she knew he held no expectations of her, nor did he have any demands, save that of gathering firewood. With that in the back of her mind, she'd let his soothing presence wash over her, until at last she could return to sleep untroubled. She had worried that he would ask questions, or worse, treat her as if she were fragile, but her fears were unfounded.

Buffy once again took in her new surroundings. As she gazed at the rolling green hills framed by mist-blanketed mountains, it hit her at last just how big seemed the world she'd stumbled into. Legolas and Gimli had spoken to her a little of the many different lands of Middle Earth, but looking at the vast plains, her sense of self in proportion to the universe seemed to shrink, and she shuddered. Before her mind could get carried away with the enormity of the situation, she broke out of her reverie and joined the Elf and the Dwarf, who waited patiently for her a few yards away.

She still carried nothing except the axe Gimli had lent her. They had warned her gravely that when they passed through the Misty Mountains, many perils would await them. Her mind reeled at the thought of goblins, actual goblins, and some kind of giant wolves called Wargs. _Bring 'em on,_ she'd thought to herself. Now that they had left the gloom of Fangorn, her energy was up and she was itching for a good slay.

While Buffy was out of earshot, Legolas quietly mentioned that their new friend had suffered a nightmare the night before, attempting to explain her withdrawn demeanor. Gimli then decided to regale Buffy with tales of Middle Earth during their trek in an effort to distract her and draw her out of her cheerlessness. 

To his pleasure, her eyes had lit up with interest when he began speaking of his home in Erebor, and she asked again about the dragon. Gimli proudly told of his father's part in retrieving Thain's old kingdom from Smaug and the Battle of the Five Armies. Buffy had chuckled at the dragon's name, and in answer to her companion's questions as to what was so funny, she told them about the smog problems in L.A. Both looked horrified that the atmosphere of the city was so tainted by poison, and were surprised that Buffy seemed to be so nonchalant about it.

"It's an ongoing problem," she explained as they trudged along. "Believe me, plenty of people try to solve it, but that's industry for you."

Legolas shuddered, and recalled the devastation Saruman had caused at Isengard; ripping down the trees by the roots and digging caverns from which fires belched foul smoke. "Do the people of your land burn resources to produce materials quickly?" he inquired, his voice dripping with disdain.

"And how," Buffy replied. "It's really out of control. We're literally losing whole forests everyday, and all in the name of the Almighty Dollar." At their questioning looks she amended, "Money, that is."

"Your world sounds most unpleasant, if you will pardon my saying so," Legolas commented gravely, and turned to Gimli. "No doubt Middle Earth would be in a similar state had Sauron succeeded in retrieving The Ring." The Dwarf nodded at this, and a strange quiet fell over the trio.

Buffy saw that her companions were deep in contemplation, and she felt a little shy about breaking the silence, but her curiosity was piqued. "Sauron? Was that your Big Bad?" she asked. Both threw her puzzled frowns at her strange wording, and she gave them a small smile in answer. "I guess I mean, was that your 'formidable enemy'? The one you just defeated?"

Comprehension flooded each of their faces as Gimli replied, "Yes, Sauron threatened all of Middle Earth with his evil. We are ever thankful that he has been destroyed, never to return."

"What was the ring you mentioned?" Buffy inquired. Her eyebrows rose up when she saw the meaningful glances pass between the Elf and the Dwarf at her question.

Buffy listened in fascination as they told her of how in the Second Age, Sauron, a mighty servant of evil had disguised himself as Annatar, the Lord of Gifts, and tricked the Elves of Eregion into forging the Rings of Power, which would grant each leader of Elves, Dwarves and Men the strength and will to govern their races. Sauron had forged his own ring, with which he planned to control all the others to bend to his sinister will. The Elves had sensed his presence, however, and his plan failed when they removed their Rings.

In fury, Sauron unleashed the hellish army he had taken over six hundred years to build upon the free lands. He laid claim to the nine rings worn by the Kings of Men, and thus the Nazgûl, his henchmen came into being. Centuries later came the War of the Last Alliance, in which Isildur, son of the King of Gondor, cut the Ring from Sauron's hand, and was seemingly destroyed at the end of the Second Age.

Gimli had just finished telling Buffy about the Ring's betrayal of Isildur when they stopped to make camp for the night. They decided to take a break from storytelling in order to have a meal, and then bed down for the night. As she ate her lembas, Buffy reflected on the history lesson she'd just received. This world was indeed vastly different from her world, and magic was certainly a force to be reckoned with here. It seemed quite possible that someone here could send her home.

A pang of unease resonated in her gut as the thought that she didn't really want to go back occurred to her, and not for the first time. It wasn't that she wanted to stay in Middle Earth. either; she knew where it was she wanted to be, but she couldn't face the drastic steps she'd have to take in order to return there.

Out of guilt and obligation, as well as out of her love for her sister, she told herself that she must return home. If anything else, Dawn needed her. Should she not be able to get back to Sunnydale, it was likely that Dawn would be put into foster care, and she did not want that to happen. Their father was still missing in action, and her mother hadn't named anyone else as Dawn's legal guardian, unfortunately.

Buffy also knew she had the Hellmouth to consider. She had been told by Spike how the Scooby Gang had patrolled, and tried to keep things under control with the Buffybot as a supplement. The robot's presence provided the illusion that the Slayer was still alive and kicking ass, but it didn't hold off the forces of evil for long. She finished her meal, sighing, as she came back to the same conclusion she'd been reaching over the past three days: she had no choice.

Suddenly, Buffy was drawn out of her brood-fest when the hairs at the back of her neck stood on end. She lifted her head, and looked around, sensing a strange threat around them. Looking sharply at her companions, she saw that Legolas had gone completely still, wariness etched on his features. Gimli looked alert as well, and was gripping his axe.

"What is it?" Buffy whispered. "What's out there?" Her Slayer sense began to go off the charts as she felt the whatever-it-was draw nearer. She heard low growls, and slowly reached for her own axe that lay at her feet.

"Wargs," Legolas replied darkly, and before Buffy could process the word, Legolas was on his feet. "Climb that tree, Buffy," he commanded. They were still close to the forest, and the Wargs were prowling in the underbrush, drawing closer.

"No way!" Buffy snapped, and she jumped to her feet, battle-ready.

Legolas looked at her fiercely, and drew his bow and an arrow from his quiver and readied it. "Do as I say, for your own safety, Buffy!" he ordered. "These creatures are vicious and will rip you to shreds in a heartbeat."

"Lass, go now, you'll be out of their reach if you're high up," Gimli agreed fervently. He saw the aggressive stance she had taken and the hard glint in her eyes, and he feared for her life. "Do not risk your life for foolish pride, girl. There may be goblins as well!"

Buffy merely stared straight ahead, her mouth set in a firm line. "Well then," she said evenly. "I guess you're in for a shock."

No sooner had she said this, when the beast leaped out of the woods, snarling and going straight for her. Legolas loosed an arrow, which lodged itself in the Warg's flank, but the creature did not falter. The Elf felt his heart rise in his throat as he watched the thing make a final leap to land in front of the girl, ready to pounce. He unsheathed his twin blades and rushed forward, but before he could attack, an amazing scene unfolded before his eyes.

Buffy ran toward the Warg, and launched high into the air, somersaulting over the foul beast, to land deftly behind it, and swung her axe at an approaching goblin, slicing its head clean off its shoulders. The Warg wheeled back around and leapt again, and this time Buffy spun in place and landed a kick to the side of its head, sending it sprawling on its back. She jumped on top of it, and brought her axe to its throat in a killing blow.

At this point, Legolas could watch no longer. Wargs and goblins surged out of the woods, at least fifteen in all. The Elf's blades flashed silver in the firelight, and Gimli's axe swung mightily, severing heads and limbs. The howls of the enemy filled the night air, and black blood stained the grass. 

It was over as suddenly as it had begun. Legolas slit the throat of a goblin, and turned to see Buffy seize another's head, snapping its neck with her bare hands. The creature fell, and the night was silent once more, except for the heavy breaths of the warriors, recovering from the battle.

"Is it just the light, or is this blood really black?" Buffy asked, looking at her soiled sweater in disgust. Not hearing a response, she looked up to see Gimli and Legolas staring at her incredulously. "What? Is there something on my face?" she inquired cheekily.

Legolas shook his head in disbelief at her casual manner. "I think you know why we are staring at you, Buffy Summers," he stated severely. "Just who are you, exactly?"

"Never have I seen any man, Elf or Dwarf fight in such a manner," Gimli whispered in awe. "How does such a small girl wield so much power and skill?"

Legolas kept his piercing gaze on Buffy, who merely shrugged. "I guess it's confession time, huh?"

"I dare say it is," Legolas replied. "However, let us dispose of these foul carcasses first."

They dragged the remains of the goblins and Wargs farther out onto the plains, piling them on top of one another. Legolas fashioned a torch from unused kindling, and a few rags, and lit it on the campfire. When he tossed the flame on the bodies the three warriors watched them burn for a moment, and then returned to their campsite. They moved their bedrolls and supplies away from the battle site and made themselves comfortable. Legolas offered Buffy his water skein and she drank deeply from it, and wiped her arm across her mouth. 

Gimli cleaned his axe, watching Buffy with interest. "So, young lady. It seems that it is your turn to tell a tale."

Buffy drew in a deep breath, and exhaled with resignation. "Giles is so much better at the exposition thing than me," she muttered. She leaned her head back, craning her neck and gazed at the stars. Her eyes still fixed on the sky, she took in another breath and recited softly:

"Into each generation a slayer is born. One girl, in all the world, a chosen one. One born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires, to stop the spread of their evil, and the swell of their numbers."

She had first heard that as a carefree, innocent and very wigged out girl from her first Watcher, Merrick. By the time she'd met Giles the following year, she was no longer in awe of her situation and powers. Instead, she had flatly refused to be the Slayer any longer, but had eventually been unable to deny her calling. At this moment, she could only wonder what, if anything, these words would mean to the Elf and the Dwarf.

Looking now at her silent companions, she told them: "I'm Buffy. The Vampire Slayer."

*          *          *

Legolas marveled at the tale Buffy told. A female child was chosen by the gods to fight demons and other evil beings, having been imbued with superior strength and skill. She was expected to give her life to the cause, working alone to prevent the end of the world and fated to die young. Once one slayer died, another was called, and the cycle continued.

He had no doubt that she was telling the truth, having seen for himself what she could do. He felt a little foolish for being so surprised; after all, he had felt her strength three days ago when she had tackled him. At the time, he attributed it to a burst of energy and fear, and thought she was just very brave and hotheaded. Now, he could see that bravado came from somewhere deep inside, primal and untamed. 

Legolas at last understood the burden she carried, and why she'd reminded him so much of Frodo when first he'd laid eyes on her. She told them how she and her friends had averted several 'apocalypses' over the past five years. She had help, but the majority of the responsibility lay on her tiny shoulders. She was weary, he could see, but he also suspected she was leaving out something of great significance.

"Why choose a young girl for all this?" Gimli's question interrupted the Elf's thoughts. "It seems a terrible burden to give to such a one, not to mention impractical."

Buffy shrugged indifferently. "I guess if you're a vampire or other nasty, the last person you'd expect to give you a problem would be a small, young girl. It's easy to trap them that way."

"Vampires," Legolas muttered gravely. "You truly have vampires in your world?"

"Oh, yeah," Buffy replied with a grim nod. "Do you have them here too?" 

Legolas nodded solemnly. "I have never seen one myself," he said. "In fact, there is some doubt that any still exist in Middle Earth."

"I don't think I have ever heard of them," Gimli mused. "What are they, exactly?"

"Morgoth, the first Dark Lord, used them as his winged messengers," Legolas replied, before Buffy could respond. "They appeared as gigantic bats with the faces of hideous men or women; their feet were like those of enormous birds of prey with iron claws."

"Wait, bat wings and iron claws?" Buffy asked incredulously. "I think your vampires are different from my vampires. They aren't all that mysterious, although they like to think so, and they sure don't have wings." She looked at Gimli to set the record straight. "Ours are demons living in a dead human host. They feed off the blood of humans and you can kill them with a wooden stake in the heart, decapitation, fire or sunlight. You do any of those things, and they explode into dust."

Gimli looked skeptical at this. "How does a demon inhabit a dead body? It seems impossible to me."

"You live in a world where magic rings and goblins exist, and you think that's impossible?" Buffy chided. "If a vampire wants to make a friend for himself, it'll drain you until you're almost dead. Then the vamp cuts itself and forces you to drink from the wound. Hours later, you wake up, and presto chango, you're a soulless demon who's incredibly hungry for blood."

 "I do not know whether the vampires of Middle Earth fed off the blood of Men, but they were demons," Legolas told them. "It is said that Sauron himself took the shape of a vampire and fled after the fall of Tol-in-Gaurhoth at the end of the First Age."

"Ah, the Quest for the Simaril," Gimli nodded sagely, recalling the three great jewels of Valinor. "When Thingol demanded that Beren obtain one of the jewels as a bride-price for his daughter, Lûthien-"

Buffy's brow furrowed in confusion, and she interrupted. "Uh, yeah. Not following you, here," she told the Dwarf.

"A tale for another time, perhaps," said Gimli in reply. "You have not yet finished with your own, please forgive me."

Buffy waved off the apology with a shrug. "No big. That's pretty much it, anyway. Me, Slayer. Vampire dustage, and occasional world save-age. That's what I do."

Again, Legolas was amazed by her flippant attitude. "That cannot be all there is to it," he chided. "Surely you have had many adventures. Please regale us with one," he encouraged her.

Buffy wasn't in the mood to share her experiences just then, so she demurred. "Nah, that's okay. I'm really kinda tired right now. I think I'm gonna catch some 'z's'."

Gimli and Legolas exchanged surreptitious glances, once more befuddled by her words. "Very well," Legolas conceded. "One question, though. Why did you not enlighten us before now?"

Buffy, making herself as comfortable as she could on the lumpy bedroll, looked up at the Elf and smirked. "You didn't ask." At his frown she amended, "Just kidding. Sorry, I guess I'm just used to being 'Secret Identity Girl'. No one's really supposed to know about The Slayer outside my Watcher and myself."

"Your Watcher?" Gimli asked, his thoughts flying to the Guardian in the waters outside Moria.

"Yeah," Buffy replied, propping herself up on her elbow. "This secret society called The Watchers Council finds and trains each new Slayer when she's called. They're like mentors, I guess- well mine is, anyway." She felt a pang in her heart when she thought of Giles, and how distressed he must be by now. She wished he were here to guide her out of this mess. "Most of them are these uptight, stuffy guys who think they're in charge of me or something. Usually, I tell them to go shove it."

"Shove what?" asked Legolas, and a small giggle erupted from Buffy at his innocent question. Her companions delighted in hearing the sound. She was far too solemn by half, although understandably so. Gimli joined in her laughter, and made a suggestive gesture with the handle of his axe.

"Gimli!" Legolas exclaimed, mortified by the crudeness of his friend in front of a lady, but Buffy only laughed louder. The Elf got over his embarrassment, seeing as she wasn't offended, and rolled his eyes comically. "Dwarves," he muttered. "They were born and raised in caves, so why should I be surprised?"

"And Elves are too high and mighty for their own good, climbing up trees and looking down their noses at the rest of us," Gimli retorted, still laughing.

"Just for that, you may take the watch for tonight," Legolas replied with feigned haughtiness. 

Buffy smirked, thinking that these two could do their own version of "The Odd Couple: Middle Earth Style." _Can an Elf and a Dwarf share an apartment without driving each other crazy?_ she mused.

"As you command, Prince Legolas," Gimli declared sarcastically. He stood, gave a mock bow to the Elf, and turned to take a private stroll in the woods.

"Oh, you really are a Prince?" Buffy's eyes widened, remembering how she'd mocked his royal status when they'd first met.

"Yes, I am," Legolas replied with a grin. He thought for a moment of teasing her a little for her disbelief and behavior towards him that first morning, but he let it go. He never liked to make too much of his title.

"So, what's that like?" Buffy cocked her head to the side in contemplation.

"What's it like?" Legolas laughed in surprise. "I hardly know how to answer you. What is it like being the Slayer?" he countered.

Buffy sobered at that, her light mood dissipating. "It sucks, for the most part," she sighed. "Nothing but duty and calling, and 'no, you can't have a normal life, you're the Slayer' type stuff for Buffy."

"I suppose that is much what being a Prince is like. My father expects much of me, and I am displeasing him greatly by staying away from home for so long." Legolas gazed off into the night, his eyes solemn.

"I think you have a better deal, though," Buffy stated quietly. Both were silent for a moment, and finally Buffy moved to settle down to sleep, when a thought occurred to her. "Oh, are you gonna want your bedroll back, since you're sleeping tonight?"

"I shall be quite comfortable right here, Buffy," he replied, settling himself on the ground by the roots of a tree.

"Okay, if you're sure," Buffy said, and she put her head down on the padding. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, hoping that she would sleep peacefully, untroubled by her dark dreams.

When Gimli returned, Legolas told him he would take the watch yet again. In truth, he was not tired, and even had he been, his mind was too active with the astonishing revelations Buffy had made. He also wanted to keep vigil over her in case she fell prey to nightmares again. He was beginning to become very concerned with what would befall this tiny Slayer.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Buffy awoke to find only darkness before her eyes. A wave of panic swept over her, and she thought perhaps she'd gone blind. She didn't know where she was, and couldn't remember how she'd gotten there in the first place, or where she'd been before then. She knew nothing other than utter blackness and fear.

Lifting her hands to explore her surroundings, they didn't get far: almost immediately, they connected with a hard wall, and when she tried to roll to her side, she found it impossible to move. She was blocked in on either side.

Panic rising, she suddenly realized how hot and stuffy she was. She had a distant memory of being buried alive once; she remembered being thrown into an empty grave and the maniacal laughter that accompanied her screams as the dirt was piled on top of the coffin. In a flash, her mind made the connection, and she knew she had to claw her way free, or she'd die there.

As Buffy banged on the walls of her prison, she found no strength in her limbs. She knew this wasn't right. She knew she ought to at least be able to inflict some damage and crack the wood so she could make a hole and start digging upwards, but her muscles were lax, and her strikes were about as effective as those of a newborn kitten.

"No!" A hoarse sob escaped her throat, and she tried to scratch through the wood but her nails broke off down to the quicks, and she was left without any other option except to lie there and suffocate.

"No," she wept. "Don't do this, please. Please, please let me out!" She drew in great gulps of air, determined to survive, and then suddenly stopped. Her racing mind slowed down, and she knew that the longer she drew this out, the worse it would be. She should just relax and let death come and take her into the void…

As Buffy lay waiting for oblivion, she heard a soft voice, speaking to her in a foreign language. She couldn't understand the words, but she took comfort in them just the same, as she waited for the end. She remembered the beautiful, peaceful place she'd been in before waking up here, and she longed for it with all her being. She willed it to come for her, to take her in its arms, and bear her away from this hell, but it never came.

She did feel arms about her, but not the kind she'd expected. Someone wrapped his arms about her body, and lifted her to a strong chest, cradling her. Slowly, Buffy woke from her dream, and stared up into the blue eyes of the Elf that held her.

He looked down at her in deep concern, and continued to whisper to her comfortingly in Elvish. Legolas stroked her cheek with a gentle hand, and at last she came into full awareness. Blinking rapidly, she drew a quick intake of breath and pulled away from him. Placing her hands on the ground for leverage, Buffy stood slowly on shaking legs, looking about her at the dark night lit only by the small campfire. She stumbled away a few steps, and when she heard the Elf start to follow, she halted him with her hand and a shake of her head.

"Don't," she whispered, and Legolas' sharp ears only just caught the word. He watched as she staggered away from the campsite. He could understand that Buffy wanted to be alone, but he worried for her safety in this state of mind. He couldn't be sure whether she was fully awake or not, so he followed at a close distance, stepping as softly as he could.

Buffy's legs carried her up a small slope a few yards away from her companions. She sat at the top of the hill, and gazed up at the night sky, glittering with stars. Silent tears coursed down her cheeks, and she made no move to wipe them away.

She had felt so weak and helpless in her dream; like that time that Giles had drugged her on the Council's orders to take her powers away, but much worse.

She remained awake for the rest of the night, afraid to sleep and return to her nightmares, although she wasn't sure that the waking world was much better.

Two days later, Legolas and Gimli walked several steps behind Buffy, who trudged along silently. Their earlier attempts to draw her out of her miserable state had failed, so they left her alone.

Legolas had witnessed another of Buffy's nightmares for the third night in a row. She hadn't wanted to sleep last night, insisting it was her turn to take the watch, but the Elf knew her real reasoning, and he couldn't blame her. She'd stayed up with him for a few hours, quietly watching the campfire, lost in thought, when he noticed her eyes drooping closed. He then insisted she rest, and guided her over to the bedroll.

This latest nightmare had been the most horrifying to watch. She'd thrashed around violently, striking out at an unseen barrier and crying, like that first night. What had made it worse, however, was when he'd gone to her side to calm her. Before he could touch her or speak, her eyes flew open, wide and unseeing, and she uttered in a deadened tone: "They left me in the ground. They buried me and then they left me there."

Legolas' stomach had twisted when he heard that, and he'd almost backed away in horror at the eerie expression on her face. He collected his wits, and proceeded to pull her out of her dream as he had for the past three nights.

Legolas could only guess what kind of torment she'd suffered, and at whose hands. He supposed she might have been captured by an enemy and tortured, which wouldn't be surprising considering her vocation, but it didn't ring true in his mind. He found himself longing for her to confide in him in order to release some of the burden, but he knew better than to press her.

In any case, they would reach Isengard soon, and then it would be time to decide their course of action. Legolas and Gimli had discussed several options, but hadn't yet consulted Buffy about them.

"I thought we might head for Imladris, and seek the counsel of Lord Elrond," Legolas told his friend.

"Do you think he will have any answers for her?" Gimli asked, his brow furrowing.

"I do not know," Legolas replied. "He may be able to help. He has an extensive library, and perhaps he will let us make use of it."

Gimli frowned again at that, not really wanting to take hours to look through volumes of dusty old tomes, for who-knew what, but he desired to help the sad young woman. Despite some misgivings about who she really was, he did feel sorry for the girl who called herself the Slayer. Earlier, after they had begun on their day's journey, he had tried to continue his tales of the Ring and the Fellowship, but her eyes did not shine with the interest they'd held two days ago, and he did not persist.

"Perhaps he will have news of Gandalf as well, and summon him to help," Gimli suggested hopefully. "If not, we could always go to Lórien, to see The Lady of the Golden Wood, for she is as wise as she is fair," Gimli added with a sigh.

Legolas could not help but smile, and he glanced sideways at the smitten Dwarf. "That she is, Master Dwarf. And of course, this would provide you with the opportunity to gaze upon her once again."

Gimli's cheeks reddened slightly, and he glowered at the Elf. "I will admit that I do desire to see the Lady, but my reasons for suggesting that we enlist her aid are not entirely selfish," he stated grumpily.

"I know, my friend, I know," Legolas admitted with a laugh. "If only we could cure Buffy of her melancholy now, though, my heart would be glad."

"You say her nightmares have gotten worse?" Gimli inquired.

"Aye," Legolas nodded gravely. "It has gotten harder for me to pull her out of her dreams, and she no longer wishes to sleep because of them." He had had a difficult time getting her eat as well. Her insistence that she did not hunger made him wonder if the patience he prided himself on was going to crack. Slayer or not, she needed to take care of herself, and she was petulantly refusing to do so.

"I have only heard her laugh a few times," Gimli mused, "and already I long to hear the sound again, but I fear we shall be deprived of that pleasure."

Legolas smiled at the memory of her laughing spell that first morning, when Gimli had been sound asleep. The girl certainly had an odd sense of humor, and hopefully she would display it again soon. Although if her torment grew from here, he doubted she would ever smile again.

"We can only give her time, and pray that she confides in us," Legolas responded.

"Well, of the two of us, I suspect she'll be more likely to confide in the one she finds the most handsome," Gimli's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Me, that is," he chuckled.

Legolas laughed out loud at the Dwarf's jest. At the sound, Buffy halted her plodding steps, and turned around. She stared at them both for a moment before speaking. "How much farther?" she asked blandly.

Startled by her stony demeanor, neither Elf nor Dwarf spoke for a moment. Finally, Legolas replied to her question. "About an hour's walk, Buffy," He said as he strode up to her nimbly. "When we reach the River Isen, perhaps you'd like to bathe," he suggested, wrinkling up his nose, and tried to get a rise out of her.

In response, she simply shrugged, turned, and continued on ahead. He heard her mumble, "Whatever."

Shaking his head, he headed back to Gimli, who looked stunned that a member of the gentler sex should be so indifferent to the idea of a bath after days of rough living.

"Perhaps Slayers are accustomed to smelling like cave trolls," Gimli quipped.

Buffy had never felt so disgusting in her life. She hadn't had a bath, brushed her teeth, changed her clothes or shaved in five days. Add to that the depression that weighed down her heart, and she was one miserable Slayer. Her state of mind had fallen sharply in the past two nights with her dreams becoming more vivid and intense. Any lightness of mood that she had adopted since waking up in Middle Earth was seeping away as the novelty of a new world had worn off somewhat, and she was back to being Morbid Buffy.

What unnerved her the most, though, was Legolas' ability to soothe her so easily. His presence alone was calming, but when he pulled her from her nightmares by holding her in his arms, she felt something akin to the peace she'd found in heaven, and it terrified her. The intensity of feeling it stirred within her was vastly disconcerting after weeks of feeling numb inside.

Buffy remembered the first time she'd awakened to stare into his eyes. He seemed to be glowing, and she wanted to remain in his arms, feeling warm and safe, but she'd pulled away. She couldn't come to depend on him for that, since she didn't really belong in his world, and even if she did, it wasn't like he was applying for the job of Buffy Comforter.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his musical laugh, and in spite of her gloom, she glanced behind her, only to stop and stare at the beauty of him. It wasn't as if she hadn't noticed his yumminess before, but every once in a while it stunned her. She was careful to keep her face expressionless, whenever that happened, so he didn't think she was some kind of dull witted woman who could only gawk at him.

A moment passed, and she realized that Gimli and Legolas were staring back at her, so she said the first blasé thing she could think of: "How much farther?" Legolas looked startled and then answered her cheerily.

"About an hour's walk, Buffy." She watched him as he walked lightly up to her, and her ire rose when he made a crack about her current state of smelliness.

Keeping her mask of indifference on, she shrugged and muttered, "Whatever," and walked away from him. _Stupid Lego Blocks,_ she pouted inwardly. _Don't need his glowy elf self telling me I'm stinky. I've only gone without a bath for three days, who knows how long those two have been on their little hiking trip. Besides, they're guys, and guys like to be smelly._ Her cantankerous thoughts continued on an endless loop as she forged ahead, determined to steer clear of the Elf and the Dwarf for the time being.

True to Legolas' word, after about an hour more of walking, Buffy could hear the rush of a river up ahead, and she started to quicken her pace. _Bath, bath, bath!_ _No more stinky Buffy_, was all she could think, and when she rounded a bend in the mountain's footpath, she saw it. The water looked like a silver ribbon stretched out across the green grass. It wound around trees and rocks, and she ran alongside it, not sure where she was going.

At last, the river led her to a clearing, where a few trees stood around a path leading up to a huge, black tower. Buffy stopped in her tracks and gaped at the immense structure. _Too bad Anya's not here, _she mused. _She'd provide me with an inappropriate phallic reference, I'm sure._ Hearing her travel buddies approach, she turned around to ask them about the tower, but all she saw behind her was a tree, which was really odd because it stood directly in line with the path she had been on.

Buffy frowned deeply, trying to remember if she'd seen that tree earlier, and why she hadn't run smack into it. Looking up, she was astounded to see that the tree in question was looking down at her with equal mystification. Her jaw dropped open when what looked like the tree's head seemed to tilt, like it was studying her. Then it did the even more impossible, and spoke.

"_Hoom_, and what sort of orc are you? Or are you a hobbit?" It spoke in a deep, gravelly voice, and its tones were measured and slow.

"Uhhhhh…" said Buffy.

"_Hoom-hoom_, you are very small, I see, so you could be a hobbit, but you can never be too careful," the tree told her sagely.

"Uhhhhh…" said Buffy.

"That is a very strange language you speak," it said, and frowned. "It is not so hasty, as many other languages have become of late." The tree bent down to get a better look, and its branches and limbs creaked as it did so. "Hmmm, you do not seem to me to be an orc, so that is good, but what you are I cannot decide."

"She is of the race of Men, Eldest," came Legolas' voice from behind the talking tree. Buffy's mind just barely registered that the Elf didn't seem at all surprised to see a tree talking to her, but she couldn't seem to come to terms with it. Not quite knowing what to do, she continued to stare, slack-jawed at the creature before her.

"Back so soon, are we, Prince of Mirkwood?" the tree pronounced in its gruff pitch.

_It sounded surprised,_ Buffy thought dumbly. _The tree sounded surprised. That's kinda funny, coming from a plant with a face!_

"You hasty folk have wandered through my entire realm in less than a moon," it continued, shaking its massive head.

"We were only in Fangorn for a short time when we came across this young woman," Legolas replied, as he stepped up beside Buffy. "She is out of place, and we came back for our horses, so that we might help her find her way home."

"Indeed, indeed…out of place, eh? This world has many misplaced peoples, I know. Now that the threat is gone, the Dark One's minions are scattered about. We have had to deal with a few orcs here and there, but nothing too serious." The tree gestured with a gnarled limb. "As you can see, we have been very busy restoring the land that Saruman destroyed so callously."

"A fine job you've made of it too," Gimli offered, as he joined Legolas and Buffy. The Dwarf eyed the girl with amusement, seeing how stunned she was to see such a being as an Ent. Legolas was also suppressing a laugh at her wonderment, but he started to feel a little sorry for it, so he placed a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her out of her stupor.

"This is Buffy, Eldest. She is a mighty warrior, though you wouldn't think it to look at her," the Elf said, and at that, Buffy regained the power of speech.

"Hey!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"Buffy, this is Fangorn, or Treebeard as he is known to some. He is an Ent, a guardian and shepherd of the trees. He is as ancient as this world itself," Legolas explained to the frowning girl.

Buffy looked back up at Treebeard in puzzlement. "Trees need a shepherd?" she queried.

"Indeed they do, small person," the Ent replied. "There are too few of us now to keep them in line. They have gone very wild, very savage, _hoom_."

"Well, that explains the grumpy plant-life, sort of," Buffy mumbled.

Legolas smiled, glad to see Buffy's humor returning somewhat. "Come," he said. "Let us refresh ourselves here and make camp for the night." He looked up at Treebeard. "By your leave of course," he added respectfully.

"Certainly you may," replied Treebeard, turning his massive body to lead the way. "Any Elf or friend of Gandalf is most certainly welcome."

Buffy watched for a moment as Legolas and Gimli followed the big, talking tree. "Well," she said. "I didn't think it was possible, but my life actually got weirder." She shrugged and took a deep breath before heading down the path. "Oh well. Soapy goodness, here I come!"

About an hour after their arrival at Isengard, Buffy sat in a small brass bathtub full of hot water. Sighing languidly, she let the stress of the past five days melt away, and she began to scrub off the grime of travel. Legolas had found bars of soap along with the brass tub in the storehouses, and Buffy had snatched one from his hand before he could say a word. The soap had a bitter scent and reminded Buffy of a hospital, but she really couldn't be picky at this point. Buffy wasn't exactly comfortable with bathing outdoors either, but she did have some privacy, hidden behind some non-moving, non-talking trees.

Buffy took a peek under her arms, and grimaced when she saw five days growth of hair. She hadn't thought to ask for some sort of razor. She was sure that some of the men in this world shaved, even though Gimli obviously didn't bother, and judging by the lack of stubble on Legolas' face after five days, Elves didn't need to. She wondered how she would take care of this little problem, and smirked when she figured Legolas wouldn't take kindly to her asking to borrow one of his wicked looking knives for personal hygiene purposes.

Becoming more and more frustrated with the major adjustments she had make in this world, Buffy tilted her head back to wet her hair, then began to apply the lather from the soap to it. _No deep conditioning for a while,_ she thought glumly, as she washed the grit and goblin blood from her golden strands. She sighed, thinking of other luxuries she would be deprived of in her time here.

_No shopping malls so I can't get myself a new outfit, and by the time we get to wherever it is we're going, they'll be beyond hope,_ she thought sadly. It was trivial yes, but she had really liked that sweater. _Oh well,_ she told herself. _Might as well get used to it. No phones, no electricity, no cars and worst of all, no chocolate!_

She pouted as she remembered how she'd made that discovery three days ago, after griping about her umpteenth serving of lembas. They had taken a short break from traveling to sit and eat, and Buffy had stared grumpily at the portion of food Legolas had handed to her.

"I'm just gonna pretend this is a big piece of chocolate cake," she grumbled before taking a bite of the waybread.

"What is chocolate?" Gimli asked as he started on his own meal of dried meat and fruit.

Buffy had choked on her food at the question, and Legolas thumped her on the back as she coughed. "What is chocolate?" she'd exclaimed, incredulous. "Only the best food in the entire universe!" Looking up at the sky in an overdramatic display she wailed, "Why did I have to go to the world without chocolate? Why couldn't I have gone to the one without shrimp?"

Buffy looked back down to see her companions' baffled expressions and shook her head. "I can't talk about it," she stated. "If I do, then I'll crave it and if I crave it and can't have it, you'll be dealing with Extra Bitchy Buffy."

Buffy shook her head, remembering her companions' amused grins. They had found it extremely funny that she would get upset about something so trivial as that. _Poor things don't know what they're missing, _she mused with mock pity. Leaning her head back again to rinse the soap from her hair, she curtailed her thoughts of chocolate with another distressing issue.

_No indoor plumbing either, I bet,_ she mused, and then a disastrous thought occurred to her. _What am I gonna do if I get my period? I seriously doubt this world knows anything of the miracle that is the tampon, and I'm sure the maxi pad has yet to make an appearance, either._

Squeezing soap and water from her hair, she grew grumpier by the minute. She figured it was useless to ask Legolas or Gimli what the women of this world did with themselves when they got their periods. She just hoped that she wouldn't be there long enough to worry about it.

Buffy paced around the campfire, desperately trying to stave off sleep. Despite the fact that she was bone-tired, she was determined not to sleep yet, seeing as Legolas had gone off with the giant tree thingies to get gardening tips or something, though she wasn't sure if he was giving advice or getting it.

She chastised herself for depending on him like this, but if she slept and had more nightmares, she wanted him there to wake her. If not, she'd stay up all night, come hell or high water.

"Stop pacing, lass or you'll wear a big hole in the ground," said Gimli, who was growing dizzy and irritated with her constant movement. "Do you want to ruin all the work the Ents did filling in all the holes that were made here?"

Buffy halted her steps, and planted herself in front of Gimli, thinking it was time for more Tales of Middle Earth. Maybe that would help her to stay awake. "So why were there holes here?" she asked eagerly. "Was someone digging for treasure or something?"

Gimli shook his head and told her gravely, "No, lass. It was destruction for destruction's sake."

"Well, why don't we pick up from where we left off?" she suggested, and Gimli frowned at her in puzzlement. "I mean, you were telling me all about the ring, and stuff, and I want to hear the rest." She grimaced sheepishly, remembering how she'd fended off his latest attempts to continue the story. "I'm sorry I've been all 'don't talk to me' girl lately. It's just…I'm just…" she trailed off, not knowing how to elaborate. "I was all-"

"Well, now, let's see," Gimli interrupted, gazing at the sky as he stroked his beard in thought. "I told you of the Ring's betrayal of Isildur, did I not?"

Buffy smiled slightly, grateful for the gruff little Dwarf's perceptiveness of her feelings. "Yeah, I think so," she told him, and then frowned. "Wait, who is he again?"

Gimli laughed, and once again told her of the end of the War of the Last Alliance, and the Kings of Gondor, and how the line of kings was broken and exiled when Isildur took the Ring, and then died.

Gimli had heard the complete tale of the Finding of the Ring when the Fellowship had been reunited in the White City of Gondor after the war. He hadn't known the full story before, only what his father and other sources had told him in snippets. He began with poor Sméagol's fate, and Buffy became more and more amazed that a small band of gold should have so much power that it changed someone into a warped, ugly and twisted creature, prolonging his life as he worshipped it.

"So, this ring was pretty big with the evil, huh?" she remarked with a grimace. "But other people, good people still wanted it?"

Gimli nodded sadly, thinking of the slain Boromir. "Men desired to use it to fight evil, not realizing it would only corrupt them in the end. Only its Master could wield it. Others, it would just bend to his will." Then he stated proudly, "Luckily, Dwarves are much more resilient to such things than Men."

Legolas had returned by this time, and added, "As are Elves, I should remind you."

Gimli looked up at his Elven friend and countered, "Ah, but the Dwarf Lords were able to keep their Rings of Power and resist Sauron's will, while the Elves had to put theirs away."

Buffy interrupted before Legolas could reply to that challenge. "Anyway, so the Ring was with that Gollum guy, then what?"

Gimli continued on, speaking of Bilbo Baggins, the Hobbit who had found the Ring after Gollum had lost it. He had kept its power to make him invisible a secret for some time, but he put it to good use.

"Nifty," Buffy commented, thinking of all the things she could get away with if she were invisible.

"Yes, Bilbo was able to rescue the Dwarves from many perils," Gimli glanced at Legolas and said wryly, "including the dungeons of your father's palace, Master Elf."

"Your dad put the Dwarves in the dungeons?" Buffy exclaimed indignantly. "Why'd he do that?"

Legolas frowned at the accusations, and replied with some scorn, "Had Thorin Oakensheild been more forthcoming about his reasons for _trespassing_ in the Realm of Mirkwood, my father would have treated him as his honored guest," he pointed out.

Gimli turned to face the Elf fully at this, and replied, "And what would Thranduíl have done then, eh? Demanded half the treasure, that's what!"

Legolas decided to let that comment go in order to avoid a heated argument. Even though he knew his father to be very cunning and somewhat greedy when it came to treasure, he did not wish to hear him maligned in any way, nor did he wish to fight with his friend.

"In any case," said the Elf, waving his hand in dismissal, "that was over and done with years ago, and Elves and Dwarves alike fought valiantly against the goblins."

Gimli nodded in compliance, contrite for his earlier outburst. "Yes, well, it was ever a sore point for my father. Being put in a dungeon after almost being eaten by giant spiders-"

"Ew!" Buffy squealed in horror. "You have giant spiders here?" She shuddered at the thought. "I hope we don't run into any of those, 'cause that would just be gross."

Legolas chuckled at her squeamishness. "And here I thought you were a seasoned warrior, accustomed to battling all manner of horrifying creatures," he jibed. "You could not handle a giant spider?"

Buffy blanched at his teasing and snapped, "Of course I could handle it! After all, I had to kill a giant preying mantis once." She sat up straight, staunchly defending her slayerness. "And I blew up a giant snake, too. So there!" She added primly when her companions looked at her in surprise. "I'd just rather not have to, that's all."

Gimli suppressed his laughter and stood, stretching. He was becoming weary from all the storytelling and told his friends he wished to retire. "We have a long road ahead of us tomorrow," he said, eyeing Buffy meaningfully. "You should get some sleep as well, lass."

"Oh, but I'm not tired," she said with some difficulty as she tried to stifle a yawn. "I wanna hear about the big bad, and the war." She pouted when Gimli moved away to prepare for bed. Looking over at Legolas, she nudged him. "Hey, you don't need to sleep, Lego Man, you can tell me."

Legolas sighed at the detestable nickname she'd given him. He was very glad she had become so talkative, but he knew what she was trying to do, once again, and it would inevitably end the same way as the last time.

"Gimli is right, Buffy. We ride to Imladris tomorrow, and it is at least a month's journey from here-"

"A month?" Buffy exclaimed. "A whole freaking month?" Buffy shot up from her position on the ground and began to pace again. "It's gonna take that long? Isn't there anywhere closer we can go?"

Gimli and Legolas, startled by her outburst, sat speechless for a moment, and watched her pace frantically.

"What's going to happen to me? To my sister? My friends probably think I'm dead again, and then they'll-" she stopped short, stunned at what she'd almost revealed.

"They will think you are dead _again_?" Legolas asked, incredulously. "What do you mean, Buffy?"

"N-nothing," she stammered, trying to think of a good cover story. "I was missing for a little while once, and they- they just _thought _I was dead." She glanced at her companions, who were eyeing her warily. "But I wasn't," she added quickly, seeing their expressions. "I wasn't really dead," Buffy said, laughing nervously.

_Way to go, Buffy, they think you're a complete lunatic now,_ she scolded herself silently. She sat back down hurriedly, and changed the subject. "Okay, so a month. I guess I'll have to deal. We can travel a lot faster in my world, so I'm just not used to the idea of a trip taking that long."

"I have already ascertained that Middle Earth and your world are vastly different places," Legolas commented, and Gimli nodded in agreement, before going back to his previous task.

"Yeah. So anyway, how about that story?" Buffy asked, relieved that they didn't ask anymore questions.

"Well, where would you like me to continue from?" he asked. "Gimli told you of the Finding of the Ring and what happened after that, but not of the Dark Lord, Sauron."

"Oh, right, 'cause he was destroyed but not really?" Buffy asked with an uncertain look. "How did that work, exactly?"

Legolas, who had opened his pack, dug through it and presented Buffy with some lembas. "Here," he said, urging her to take it. "If you're going to stay up all night, you may as well keep up your strength."

Buffy took the food, knowing he would continue to insist if she didn't take it. She fiddled with it more than she ate, just breaking off small pieces now and then, but the Elf didn't comment.

"I do not know exactly how that came to pass," he replied to her question. "But Sauron was one of the Maia, powerful beings second only to the Valar."

"And the Valar are…" Buffy prodded.

"The Valar are powerful spirits who entered Arda after its creation to give order to the world and combat evil. They are the Great Ones, The Lords of Valinor. Valinor is the land where the Elves dwell after their time in Middle Earth is over," he explained.

Buffy sat for a moment, processing that information. "'Like a retirement community?"

"The Maiar are powerful spirits as well," Legolas went on, ignoring her strange question. "Sauron was one of these. When he was seemingly destroyed, his spirit still remained. Lying in wait until the Ring could be found." Legolas sat in silence for a moment, his eyes wistful and sad.

"My home, Mirkwood, was once known as Greenwood the Great. It changed to something more dark and sinister when a nameless shadow settled in the heart of it. Strange creatures, like giant spiders," he glanced sidelong at Buffy, "began to dwell there, and our hearts became very troubled. It was said that a Necromancer was responsible for this change."

"A neck romancer?" Buffy asked, confused. "That sounds kinda kinky."

Legolas just looked puzzled at her words. "A Necromancer. One word. It is a powerful sorcerer who commands the spirits of the dead, sometimes raising them from their graves."

At this, Buffy stiffened, and closed her eyes. Legolas noticed her reaction, and tried to speak to her, but she could not hear him. Suddenly, visions flashed through her mind; things she knew she hadn't ever seen with her own eyes, but nevertheless knew that they had happened.

Willow…in a sunny field with a fawn…caressing it lovingly…Buffy heard a loud scream pierce the air as the witch drove a dagger into its heart…

Another vision…this one at night…Willow's pale face painted with blood, her body convulsing…an enormous snake pushing its way out of her mouth…

Some kind of clay pot, filled with blood, broken on top of a grave…her grave…

Buffy's eyes flew open, seeing not the Elf before her, but the lid of her coffin, and the dirt, the black thick dirt spilling into it, filling her mouth as she tried to scream…

"Buffy!"

Buffy gasped loudly, and woke from her trance, staring at the worried faces of Gimli and Legolas. She was lying on the ground, flat on her back. She blinked several times, and tried to slow her rapid breaths. Suddenly, she sat up sharply and stood, running to a small copse of trees, then fell to her knees and vomited.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Buffy, what happened, what did you see?" Legolas had rushed over to Buffy's side, as she emptied the scant contents of her stomach onto the grass. He knelt down, and brushed her hair away from her sweat-soaked face.

Legolas knew she had had some sort of vision when he saw her eyes displaying that unseeing characteristic they'd had whenever her nightmares occurred. He thought perhaps her dreams were invading her waking hours as well, but he couldn't be sure what had triggered this episode.

At last her retching subsided, and she coughed a few times until she could breathe steadily again. Her body sagged forward as if she were about to faint, and Legolas swiftly pulled her up into his arms and carried her back over to the campsite.

"No," she protested weakly. "I'm fine, Legolas. Put me down." She attempted to wriggle out of his grasp, but he only tightened his arms about her.

"You are not fine, Buffy," Legolas told her sternly and he placed her down on the bedroll that Gimli had prepared for her in the interim. "You need to rest. Stay there, and I will fetch you some water," he said, as he moved to his pack to get his water skein.

"I'll have some water, that's fine," Buffy grumbled, sitting up from her prone position on the ground. "But I'm perfectly okay, and I don't need to be coddled. I told you-"

"Let us see to your needs, young woman!" Gimli barked at her harshly, fed up with her stubbornness. "You are obviously unwell. Stop being so obstinate!"

Buffy's head jerked up in surprise at the Dwarf's austere tone, and the fierce glint in his eyes. She remained sitting, and obediently let Legolas and Gimli clean her up a little and help her drink some water. When at last they stopped hovering over her, she tried to stand up to move away from the bedroll. She did not wish to tempt herself with comfort and sleep, but her legs refused to support her, so she plopped gracelessly back down on the ground.

"You see?" Gimli said, his eyebrows raised. "Everyone needs help from time to time, even you, Slayer."

Once again, Gimli startled Buffy with his tone and words. Neither he nor Legolas had ever addressed her as 'Slayer', and up until now they had respectfully left her alone when she wished it. Buffy hid her face in her hands, her mind beginning to reel with the images from her vision. She felt a gentle touch on her arm, encouraging her to stop hiding, but she shook her head abruptly, and the Elf's hand was withdrawn.

"Please, Buffy," Legolas pleaded softly. "Tell us what troubles you."

Buffy drew in a shuddering breath, but did not reply. Legolas sighed and looked at Gimli, who merely shook his head, and walked back to his own pallet. The Elf looked back at Buffy, who was now trembling, and he could hear her sniffles through her cupped hands. He tenderly pried her fingers away from her tear-stained face and held them in his own.

"I know you had some sort of vision, Buffy, and I think it will do you good to tell me what it was you saw," he told her compassionately, but she squeezed her eyes shut, and shook her head once again.

"I can't, okay?" she replied shakily, pleading with him to leave her be. "I don't want to say." Truthfully, she couldn't bear to give voice to all that had happened to her in the last few months, let alone the last few moments.

Legolas shifted from his kneeling position in front of her, and sat down beside her, still holding her hands. "Your nightmares are getting worse, Buffy, and now you are having visions while you are awake. If you do not release some of your burden, I fear you will break under it."

At that, Buffy opened her eyes, still brimming with tears, and studied the Elf next to her. He had never brought the subject up since the first time he'd witnessed her suffering, and now he was trying to make her face up to the horrors she was afraid to speak of. _Well screw that!_ she thought, and she pulled her hands out of his grasp.

"Why do you care?" she asked bitterly. "You don't know me, so why should you?" Buffy knew she was being unreasonable, but it was preferable to telling the truth and seeing the pitying and horrified looks Legolas and Gimli would throw her way if she told them. That was one other reason she couldn't tell her friends what they'd done. As angry as she was, she knew they'd probably apologize over and over, acting like guilty children and beg her for forgiveness until she lost her mind. She had told Spike, because she could trust him not to pester her with it, but she couldn't be sure that her travel companions would do the same.

Legolas drew back, somewhat wounded by her angry words. He could tell that she was only lashing out at him because whatever had caused her torment was unavailable for her to take out her anger on, but he'd rather face a Balrog than accept her abuse. He stood, walked over to the other side of the campfire and sat before it, retrieving a whetting stone from his pack and sharpening his knives.

Buffy sat, silent except for a few sniffles, shocked that the Elf had left her side so coldly. She supposed she deserved that after snapping at him, but she hardly knew how else to be. Anger was such an intrinsic part of her  now. Buffy clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms and drawing blood. She was sorely tempted to jump into the cold river right then and there, before anyone could stop her. Before she could take any action at all, however, Legolas was once again at her side, taking hold of her hands.

"Buffy, what have you done?" he asked tersely, and she looked down to see her palms covered in blood. Legolas took a cloth from his pack, and began to mop up the blood, and then inspected the seeping wounds.

"Oh," she said dumbly and just stared as the red fluid trickled from the cuts and filled in the grooves of her palms. Legolas tore another cloth in half, and bound each hand tightly before hooking a finger beneath her chin, and tilting her face up to look at him.

"I cannot force you to confide in me, Buffy," he told her with genuine regard . "But I can keep you from harming yourself. I will not allow that to happen. Whether you believe me or not, Buffy, I do care." He nodded his head in the direction of the sleeping Dwarf. "So does Gimli, in his way. Please put your trust in us, and we will help you as much as we are able."

Buffy stared into his eyes, bright with worry and what seemed to her like affection, not anger, as she had feared. Her heart softened at this and she hung her head, unable to meet his gaze any longer. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Legolas dried the tears that fell onto her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, and she shivered from the intimate touch. "I shouldn't have said that to you, you don't deserve that. Just-" she looked up at him again, pleadingly. "Please don't ask me to tell you, okay? I can't say; it's too hard-" she broke off with a little sob, and tried to reign in her emotions.

Legolas relaxed his stern demeanor, and could not help but feel sympathy for this young girl. He was disappointed that she would not reveal her secret, but he understood that some pain was much too excruciating to put into words. "I promise I will not push, Buffy," he said as he stood to go back to his perch. "Should you change your mind, however, Gimli and I will be here to listen. Do not take your anger out on us again, though. Elves and Dwarves do not appreciate having their offerings of kindness thrown back at them with contempt."

Buffy had the grace to redden slightly at his words. "I won't," she said contritely.

"Good," Legolas nodded and moved away. "Get some sleep, then, and we will be on our way as early as possible tomorrow." He walked back to his previous seat, and took up his task once more. Glancing up at Buffy, he saw that she was still sitting, staring straight ahead instead of lying down to sleep.

Buffy heard the Elf's reproachful sigh, and she turned to him with wide, imploring eyes. "I can't sleep, Legolas," she said shakily. "I don't want to see what's waiting for me there. Couldn't you just keep telling me stories?"

Legolas paused, reluctant to continue. He thought perhaps something he'd said prior to her attack had caused it, and he was loath to have it happen again. "Buffy…" he began.

"Please?" she asked, doing her best imitation of a puppy dog, and returning somewhat to her former humor. "Pretty please with lembas on top?"

Legolas laughed softly and stared at her for a moment, thinking she looked just like a scared little girl, and relented. "Very well. But do not complain to me tomorrow when you fall asleep on the horse and slip off of his back," he warned her amiably.

Buffy smiled tremulously at him, and whispered, "Thanks."

*          *          *

Buffy was quiet as they rode away from Isengard. Legolas had done as she'd asked the night before, and kept her awake by telling her about the Fellowship. He assumed her silence was a result of her fatigue, as well as whatever troubled her, and he and Gimli let her be.

In truth, Buffy was feeling very lightheaded and giddy due to her lack of sleep, and her thoughts were becoming very peculiar. For instance, when Legolas had told her where they were going, she'd just giggled as a silly image struck her mind's eye. At his questioning look, she'd asked him, "We're going to see someone called Lord Elroy in Riverdale?" The notion of a "Jestons Meet the Archies" television special had popped into her head, and as lame as it was, it made her laugh.

"Lord Elrond in Rivendell," Legolas had corrected her primly.

"Oh," she replied, still chuckling and picturing an Elf wearing a hat like Jughead's. Legolas and Gimli just looked at each other and shrugged as her laughter started to build, and went back to packing their provisions and tending to their horses. As Buffy's mirth subsided, she listlessly came to the conclusion that she was going bonkers, and from her companions' reactions, she figured that they thought so, too.

Buffy stifled a giggle thinking back on that incident. She sat in front of the Elf astride Arod, and the Dwarf trotted along steadily on his pony, Ironfoot, with saddlery commissioned especially for him by Eomer, the new King of Rohan. Even though Legolas had joked about Buffy falling off the horse, he was actually very worried that such a thing would occur, so he kept a tight grip around her waist. She kept nodding off now and then, and each time she jerked her head up abruptly snapping herself awake. Finally growing weary of that routine, she broke her silence.

"Are we there yet?" Buffy asked suddenly, and then burst into giggles again. "Just kidding!" she exclaimed before Legolas could respond. She waited a moment before repeating her question like a restless child. "Are we there yet? When're we going to get there?" Buffy sighed, her laughter quelling somewhat, and told him, "My sister and I used to drive our parents crazy on long car trips with that," she said smiling at the memory, however manufactured it had been.

"Yes, I am sure that you did," Legolas muttered, mystified by her words and antics.

"Aw, I'm being silly, I know!" Buffy admitted with a childish pout.

"Yes, you are," the Elf grumbled, and rolled his eyes when Buffy laughed yet again.

"Oh, don't be mad! I'll be good," she chortled. "I know what you're gonna say. 'Don't make me turn this horse around!'" she said, in a goofy imitation of Legolas' voice, and she began to guffaw at the joke only she understood.

Hearing this, Gimli glowered at the now ridiculous girl, which only made her laugh some more, and he spurred his pony forward. If Buffy was going to be like this for the entire trip, he was going to keep his distance. 

Legolas sighed, his thoughts much like Gimli's, except he had no choice but to stay close to her. He dearly hoped she would simply fall asleep involuntarily, and perhaps put an end to this silliness. _On the other hand, _he thought, _her boisterousness is preferable to her dark moods._ _Almost._ His reverie was interrupted by an outburst from the girl in question.

"So what about this wizard guy?" Buffy twisted her head around as far as she could to look up at Legolas. "Are we going to see him too?"

"I do not know if we will be able to locate him," Legolas replied. "But we will try, and I hope he and Lord Elrond will have some answers for you. If not-"

"Weee'rrre of to see the wizard! The wonnerful Wizard of Oz," Buffy sang loudly, startling Legolas, who thought she sounded like an inebriated Hobbit. "We hear he is a whiz of a wiz if ever a wiz…there…was…" Buffy's singing was impeded by a large yawn, for which the Elf was very grateful. Her energy sapped, and he watched as Buffy's head dropped back onto his chest, her eyes closed, and her breathing began to slow.

Gimli turned around when Buffy started to sing, and when he saw her lose consciousness, he rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Thank goodness for the end of that!" He turned back around after exchanging a relieved look with Legolas, but jumped when he heard a loud snore come from the small girl.

Legolas suppressed a laugh, and slowed the horse's gait a bit, hoping that Buffy would slumber the day away. Of course, that might mean she'd be up all night, but at least she wouldn't be singing anymore. Hopefully.

*          *          *

Buffy was at peace once more. Everything that had happened to her, the resurrection, the inter-dimensional trip, had all been some sort of dream, or perhaps a test. It didn't really matter what it was anyway, since she was back in the tranquil, formless state she'd been in shortly after her death. Once again, time meant nothing, and she wondered what a day or a year on Earth constituted in this place. Could a thousand years go by in what seemed only a moment to her?

Buffy stretched out her senses, searching for the loving presence that had greeted her upon her arrival here. She thought of her mother, and joy flooded her being when she caught the beloved, familiar scent. It enveloped her, and she remembered being held close to her mother's breast when she was very small, feeling warm, safe and loved.

Buffy would have cried for happiness, but she was pretty sure she didn't have eyes, although she could sort of see. Looking around, she saw that the air was filled with a soft golden glow, and the colors shifted: now lavender, now blue, and back to gold.

_Rest_, she thought to herself contentedly, her mind becoming one with her surroundings. Buffy would soon have no other thoughts, just a sense of peace for all eternity.

*          *          *

"How long has she slept?" Gimli whispered, when they had stopped for the evening. He put out the bedrolls, and peered at Buffy's wilted form atop the horse.

Arod nickered softly, and Legolas gingerly lifted the sleeping girl off the horse's back. He turned with her in his arms, and laid her down on the pallet. "The better part of two days," he replied, and he tenderly placed her limp hands on her stomach. "She sleeps so soundly, and her breathing is so slow, one would almost think she had died," he observed, as he stood, watching her for a moment, and then turned to drop his pack on the ground.

Gimli studied the girl thoughtfully. No dark dreams had plagued her during their journey thus far, and he hoped her luck would hold. It worried him that she had been asleep for so long, but he supposed that the last week had been especially hard on her, and did not begrudge her rest.

"To be certain, she needs the respite," Legolas said to his friend, as if sensing his thoughts, and readied his bow and arrows to go hunting. When they had left Isengard, Treebeard had invited them to take whatever food and supplies they required. They had a few rounds of cheese, as well as dried fruit and meat and plenty of water, and leftover lembas, of course. But even an Elf could grow weary of waybread, and both he and Gimli desired to taste the meat of whatever game could be found.

"You do not mind staying here, Master Gimli?" Legolas asked, slinging his quiver over his shoulders.

"Nay," replied Gimli, beginning to make a pit for the campfire. "Bring us back some tasty rabbit, perhaps, and I will take good care of our companion." He glanced at the Slayer warily, unsure that her sleep would remain undisturbed without the Elf's presence. He had a feeling that the reason for her lack of nightmares was the fact that she spent most of her time very close to the Prince of Mirkwood. He did not know what would happen once Legolas went farther away from her, and he hoped he didn't have to find out.

Thirty minutes passed without incident, and Legolas returned with three young rabbits. He shed his quiver and braced his bow up against a nearby tree, before sitting on a fallen log in front of the fire to prepare the meal.

Buffy did not stir when the rabbits were roasting on a makeshift spit over the fire, and she did not wake as Gimli and Legolas ate. The Elf began to worry, for although she had needed rest, she also needed to eat, and he debated with himself over whether to rouse her or not.

Coming to a decision, Legolas reached over to nudge her on the shoulder, but stopped when a beatific, contented smile spread across her face. His hand dropped to his side when he saw this, and glad that her dreams were happy ones, he left her undisturbed the rest of the night.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

One day later, the Slayer still slept. Gimli and Legolas grew increasingly worried, as all their attempts to wake her had failed. They had shaken her gently, spoken softly and loudly to her by turns, and Gimli had even shouted directly into her ear, much to Legolas' disapproval. Nothing would stir Buffy, and the sight of her lying as if she were dead was frightfully disturbing to the Elf and Dwarf. The only indications that she yet lived were her slow, steady heartbeat, and the rise and fall of her chest.

They had made good time riding north through Enedwaith, and had bypassed Methedras only the day before. Luck had been with them as far as the weather was concerned, for the days were fair, and the nights clear. The trio was also fortunate that they had not as yet run into any dangers, although if the occasion arose, they would be unsure about what to do with their unconscious companion.

Buffy rode in front of Legolas as usual, tethered by a length of rope about her waist and his to prevent her from falling. Because of this, they could afford to ride a little faster, and they kept their eyes open for settlements and villages of Men where they might stop and seek medical help for the girl. Legolas doubted anyone without the healing skills of the Elves could help her, however. In any case, it was likely that an Elf, a Dwarf, and a strangely dressed, insensible young woman would be met with suspicion in any small town still recovering from the effects of war.

Hours passed without a change, and the Elf began to suspect that something incredibly powerful had a hold of her soul; something that perhaps Buffy herself was holding onto, and did not want to let go of. After all of her reluctance to go to sleep the week before, it was ironic that she was now blissfully adrift in oblivion, still smiling now and then.

When Legolas had first seen her smile in her sleep, his heart had rejoiced that her rest was finally peaceful, but now it troubled him. It seemed unnatural and eerie somehow, and he deduced that the longer she stayed insentient, the less likely it would be that she would ever awake.

When evening came, and they stopped to make camp, Legolas knew he had to take matters into his own hands. Buffy had gone almost three whole days without eating, and if they waited until they reached Imladris to make use of Lord Elrond's skills, she would starve to death.

While Gimli left to hunt for game, the Elf stayed with his charge and meditated on this matter. He was not a practiced healer, but all Elves had the ability to tend to the sick and injured. However, Legolas did not think any kind of medicine would help in this case. He eventually came to the conclusion that he would have to reach into Buffy's mind and heart with his own, and call to her in order to release her from her slumber.

Legolas had never done anything like this before, but he knew of this method and how it helped to bring those in injury-induced comas to consciousness. This would take some doing on his part, and would require him to call on the Valar and form a deep connection with her. In order for this to work, he had to give a part of himself over to Buffy. This was indeed a sacred bond, and in order to fulfill all it required, he would bear some sort of responsibility to the Slayer. Legolas was unsure of what exactly that would be, and it unnerved him a little, but he was determined to do this no matter what. He could not let this young woman die.

Legolas rose from the rock on which he sat, and approached Buffy's prone form on the pallet. He knelt down, and gingerly took her face in his hands. He inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes, blocking out all thought. The Elf prayed silently to Eru, asking for the grace and strength to save this girl's life. Over and over in his mind he repeated his pleas until at last, the music of Ilúvatar filled his being with light. Empowered by the Valar, Legolas bent down to whisper into Buffy's ear.

"_Lasto lammen, echuio o sîdh lín; atholo Buffy. Cenin allen na 'uren." _Legolas chanted this over and over again, hearing her heartbeat quicken as its thumps began to sound within his own heart. Buffy's breathing fell into rhythm with his, and he could feel the awareness dawning in her mind, telling her...he almost faltered in his task when he heard a faint and familiar voice flutter through her mind and his...

_**You still live, Slayer.** _

Buffy's peaceful oblivion was broken by a tiny voice. It sounded very far away, but enough of her individual self still remained to register its meaning.

_**You are asleep, but you must awake and return to life, Slayer. Death has not claimed you yet again.**_

Buffy slowly became aware of herself, her mind and soul apart from her surroundings. She could see the colors fluctuating again, but they had started to flicker, as if the energy that powered them were being drained. Gold turned to blue, and then grey swirled all around her, and she could hear a heart beat, her own along with someone else's.

Panicking, Buffy reached out again for the loving presence of her mother. It was fading, and if she could have grasped it with a hand she would have, but she could only desperately strain for it with her mind. Another presence had replaced it. It was comforting, but not the same, and she resisted as well as she could.

_No! _Her thoughts screamed. _I want to stay here! I want to stay in heaven!_

_**This is not heaven,** _said the voice. _**Wake now before you are forever trapped here.**_

_This is where I want to be, _she countered, fighting the pull on her mind and soul.

**_You cannot remain here between worlds,_** the voice told her sternly. **_Listen to the one who calls to you, Buffy._**

Confused, Buffy listened for a moment, determined to block out whatever new voice was about to speak to her. Silence permeated the air around her, and she began to think she was no longer in danger, but as soon as she came to that conclusion, she heard it:

"Listen to my voice, awaken from your peace; come back, Buffy. I call to you with my heart."

Buffy knew the voice. The words were in a foreign tongue, but she somehow understood them. The new voice repeated the words, and she tried to resist, but found that she could not. Already, awareness of mind and her solid form washed over her, and she could feel instead of just hear her heart's pounding. Breath flowed through the body that she thought she had left behind, and she felt tiny pinpricks against the skin on her limbs.

It was as if she was growing into her body from nothing. Buffy couldn't stop it from happening; she was waking up. She felt the Earth underneath her, and the hands cradling her face. Just as she was returning to full consciousness, she heard the voice of the Elf whisper:

"_Gweston le annathon dulu, i bedithal nan methed e-lend lín."_

"I swear I will give you support, that you will go to the end of your journey."

Warm lips brushed against her forehead, and a bright light surrounded her. A powerful surge rushed through her, her eyelids fluttered open, and she was staring once again into the fathomless blue of Legolas' eyes.

Legolas had felt the power go through him as well, and he knew that he had created a sacred bond with Buffy, and now had a duty he must see through to the end, whether she wanted him to or not. They stared at each other, wide-eyed and breathless for what seemed like an age.

Buffy's face was awash with confusion and awe. She wasn't quite certain what had just happened, but she thought perhaps she had finally gone mad. All she could remember was how happy she'd been, being at peace after suffering so much. Now she lay on the ground looking up at the face of the Elf she had met only days before. She had convinced herself that that experience hadn't been real, and she still couldn't be sure that it wasn't. The memories and realization of where she was came back to her gradually, and Legolas watched as her features changed from wonderment, to anger.

Legolas drew his hands away from her face, and he sat back on his heels, still watching her. Buffy glared at him accusingly, and his heart constricted with the intensity of her anger. All Buffy could think was that she had been ripped out of heaven a second time, and even though it hadn't been real she had been where she wanted to be.

Why couldn't he have just left me alone? If I was in danger of dying, I could have gone back to heaven anyway, and then it would have been real! Despair filled her heart, and tears began to form in her eyes. She couldn't bear to look at the Elf any longer, and she tried to sit up, in order to stand and walk away from him, but her limbs were sore from riding a horse, and weak from disuse.

Doubly frustrated, she lay back down, and closed her eyes, willing herself to go back to that deep and blissful state, but a sensation in her lower body was ruining her concentration.

She really had to pee.

* * *

"Well, Master Elf, the young woman seems to be very angry with you, although I can't understand why," Gimli commented as he observed Buffy sitting dejectedly on a rock several yards away.

"I cannot understand it myself, Gimli. I think that she would rather have stayed the way she was. I cannot bear to see her unhappy, but it baffles me that she would choose to starve to death in her sleep." Legolas' spirits had been uplifted during the connection with Buffy, but now he was confused and downhearted.

_The voice said the strangest things, _he was pondering to himself. That familiar voice had whispered that 'death had not claimed her yet again' and that she was not in 'heaven'._ What could that mean?_

Something clicked in the Elf's mind as he remembered something Buffy had said a few nights ago when she ranted and raved about the trip to Imladris taking a month. _She said her friends would think she was dead again, but it is not possible for one to die more than once, isn't it? Elves can be reborn, but the sons and daughters of Men do not have that gift granted to them._ She had given he and Gimli a hurried explanation of her statement, and Legolas had let it go at that, but it had raised his suspicions at the time.

"Have you lost your hearing, Master Elf?" Gimli's voice startled him out of his contemplations. "That is indeed a shame, for I understand that Elves pride themselves on their keen senses," the Dwarf jibed.

"Did you say something to me Gimli?" asked Legolas, shooting his friend an irritated glance.

Gimli frowned, seeing the Elf's expression, and repeated his earlier, unheard question. "I caught some game while you were reviving the lass, would you be so kind as to prepare it, or would you rather I cook?"

Legolas grimaced; remembering Gimli's earlier attempts at showing his culinary skills, and stood up. "That will not be necessary, Master Dwarf, I will prepare the meal."

Gimli chuckled. "No need to imply that my cooking is less than exemplary."

Eyeing the forlorn figure of the Slayer, Gimli waited until Legolas was busy with his task, and made his way over to her. Buffy did not acknowledge the Dwarf's approach, but he did not let that dissuade him. He stood for a moment, studying her and then broke the silence.

"Glad to see you're awake, lass," he said. As the Dwarf expected, Buffy said nothing in response. Gimli was determined not to tiptoe around her, as her attitude seemed to warrant. He wasn't one to go pussyfooting around difficult issues or people and he almost always met things head on. This situation required some delicate handling, it seemed, and he would honor that, but he wouldn't avoid her altogether, though she seemed to wish he would do just that.

"Move over, lass," he grumbled as he nudged the pitiful girl with his elbow. "Give a Dwarf some room to sit."

Buffy spared him an empty glance and shifted to the side, allowing Gimli to hop up onto the rock beside her. She drew in a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh of resignation.

"Have you come over here to tell me not to be depressed?" She intoned, her voice soft. "No offense, or anything, but I just wanna be alone right now."

"I haven't come over to tell you anything," Gimli replied, staring straight ahead. "I just want some company, is all."

"What about him?" Buffy asked, tilting her head in the Elf's direction. "He's probably better company than me right now."

"That one?" Gimli said, his face and voice serious. "Not while he's cooking. Like a woman he is, chasing away anyone who wants to help." He glanced sidelong at Buffy to see if she reacted to his jest. She hadn't, and he sighed. "Don't mind me, I'm just here to enjoy the sunset," he grumbled.

Buffy looked up and frowned. "Then you're facing the wrong way," she told him. "The sunset's behind us."

"I knew that, lass," Gimli chortled. "Just wanted to see if I could get your attention."

Buffy lips quirked slightly and she looked back down at the ground. "Guess it worked, then." A comfortable silence settled between them, and they stayed like that, sitting side by side for a little while until Buffy spoke again.

"I had such a nice dream," she whispered, almost to herself.

"Oh?" Gimli replied, not looking at her.

"I thought it was real, just like all my nightmares," Buffy paused, shuddering. "But this time, instead of wanting to escape from my dreams, I wanted to stay in them."

"I dare say everyone knows how that feels," Gimli offered.

_I seriously doubt that,_ Buffy thought to herself, but she only said, "Yeah."

Since waking up, Buffy had felt by turns disoriented, angry and numb. At times, she still wasn't sure if she was really awake, and that this was the dream. She'd pinched herself a few times, but that had only resulted in a few little bruises. The small injuries she'd inflicted had been more than trying to test her consciousness, though. Once again, the frozen feeling that had followed her resurrection filled her, and she wanted to feel something other than that, even if it was just minor physical pain.

Buffy knew that Legolas had awoken her in order to save her life, but she wished he hadn't. If she had died, she could have gone back to that peace without taking her own life, and now she had to face the real world again. As real as this world gets, anyway, she thought wryly.

Was this torture going to continue? she wondered. Was she doomed to experience only heaven or hell whenever she slept? Buffy felt her stomach twist at the thought of sleep. Sleep had become her enemy. She was frightened now, very frightened, and she had the Elf to thank for that. It was unfair, she knew, but she couldn't help resenting him.

Buffy couldn't avoid him however, seeing as he was one of her two guides in this strange world, and she doubted that both she and Gimli could fit on Ironfoot should Legolas leave their company. Even now, the 'Elf himself' was calling them over to the campfire for the meal. She caught the scent of the roasting rabbit in the air and her stomach grumbled despite her misgivings about eating a bunny.

Gimli jumped down from his position on the rock and held his hand out to Buffy. "Come, lass, you must be hungry after such a long sleep," he said, but she didn't take the proffered hand.

"I'll be along in a minute, Gim. You go ahead," she told him with a small sigh. Gimli shrugged and walked over to the campsite.

The minute Buffy had asked for turned into several, and she sat in solemn thought until she saw Legolas start to move toward her. Saving him the trouble of coming to get her, she walked over to join her companions.

The meal was silent, and Buffy only picked at the portion of food she'd been given. She avoided Legolas' eyes, although she sensed his questioning gaze on her several times. After she was done with her food, she took up her perch on the rock once again, not certain what she wanted to do next. She really didn't want to try and sleep, but what else was there to do? She definitely didn't want to talk to anyone, so she stuck with what she knew: sitting and feeling cold and vacant was as good a choice as any, she supposed.

Buffy's reverie of misery was rudely interrupted by the Elf, however, and when she became aware of his approach, she could feel the anger begin to stir deep inside her. He stood silently behind her, waiting for her to speak.

"What?" Buffy sighed. Where was Gimli when she needed him? He didn't want to talk about 'things', he just wanted to sit with her. She knew that Legolas was determined to confront her now, and the Dwarf was off relieving himself. Typical.

"I would like to know what I have done that is so terrible to merit your resentful silence," Legolas replied.

"Straight and to the point, aren't ya?" Buffy shot back.

Legolas strode around the rock to stand in front of her, frowning. "What have I done to warrant your anger, Buffy? I know of no infraction that I have committed against you, so why are you so hostile to me?"

Buffy looked up, about to snap at him, but the look in his clear blue eyes stopped her, and she turned away, ashamed. Legolas had looked so injured and confused, almost like a little boy who'd been naughty without knowing it was wrong. Her heart melted a little and she turned back to him to apologize, but when her eyes met the Elf's piercing gaze, her heart fluttered, and once again his beauty and essence moved something within her. He seemed to be glowing, and time came to a sudden standstill. Buffy began to tremble, and her eyes were fixed on his; it was almost like she could see right inside of him, and those blue eyes of his were looking straight at her soul.

The moment ended abruptly, and Buffy's body jolted, causing her to spring up from her seat. The intensity of what had just happened terrified her. She didn't want anyone seeing inside of her, and if she remained in his presence any longer, she would spill forth her darkest secrets and fears to him. Buffy could not afford to be that vulnerable, not with anyone.

Legolas started at her sudden movement; he as well had felt the burning when their eyes met, and he knew why it had happened. Their connection was solidified, and now he was completely committed to his task. He was her guardian, plain and simple, and he could stave off the nightmares that plagued her, and likewise keep her from falling into the deadly sleep that had held her for three days.

He took a few cautionary steps towards her retreating form. She was backing away from him in fear, and his heart was troubled that she should be afraid of him.

"Buffy," he called out to her. "Please let me explain-"

"It's okay," Buffy interrupted, and held out a restraining hand so he wouldn't get any closer. "You didn't really do anything, Legolas. I just need to be away from you right now." Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her breath was coming in short gasps. _What the hell was that? _she screamed internally. _I need to calm down right now, or I'm going to explode! _She started to breathe a little more easily when she saw that Legolas had halted his steps. "It's nothing...personal, okay?" Buffy knew without looking directly at him that his expression still held the hurt look from before.

"I am sorry, Buffy," Legolas whispered. "I only did what I thought I should in order to save you."

Buffy was silent for a long moment, and Legolas could feel her emotions whirling inside her. He had sensed her feelings before this moment, but they were mostly melancholy and sadness. Now, her mind and heart were caught up in a torrent, and he backed away, knowing the confusion she must be feeling, since he felt it as well.

Buffy swallowed hard at his declaration, thinking that it was exactly what her friends would have said if she had ever revealed her secret. They had only done what they thought was right. They thought she was in peril; being tortured in hell. But in reality, their good intentions had resulted in her torment, and Legolas, though she knew in her heart that he had been right, had done the same thing.

Buffy dropped her outstretched hand down to her side in a gesture of assent, and she spoke only just loud enough for his Elven ears to hear: "I know you only did what you thought you had to." She dared to lift her eyes, barely meeting his gaze in the darkening evening. "But you don't you can't know what I've lost, Legolas. It just hurt too much to wake up this time."

Legolas searched her face and tried to sort through the emotions he felt storming through her once again. He couldn't ask what she meant, not now with her feelings so volatile. He merely nodded and backed away from her to show her that he was no threat. Buffy's walls were too thick to break down, but he knew he would get to the heart of the matter eventually.

Relief flooded through the Slayer as she watched Legolas walk away. Feeling her heart slow a little, she looked toward the campsite where Gimli had set out the bedrolls. Despite the fear of what awaited her once she closed her eyes, Buffy walked slowly over to the pallet. _Just to relax,_ she told herself. Gimli had returned by this time, and Buffy couldn't tell whether or not he'd been watching and listening to her and Legolas. He just sat quietly, smoking on a long pipe and staring up at the emerging stars in the dusky sky.

"Going to sleep?" he intoned between puffs.

"In a minute," Buffy replied, lying down on the bedroll on her back, thinking she'd stargaze for a while as well. In truth, she was a little too wired to sleep. The experience with Legolas had made the blood rush through her veins, and she was only just coming down from it. She turned her head to see the Elf sitting on the rock she had occupied earlier, and she thought she heard him singing softly.

Gimli watched out of the corner of his eye as the Slayer's breaths came more slowly and her eyes became heavier. Eventually, they closed, and her deep breathing told him she had begun to slumber. He was a little worried, truth be told, that she would once again lapse into her previous state, but with the Elf around, he had no doubt that Legolas would be able to rouse her once again.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara all sat quietly around the large table in The Magic Box. No one knew exactly why Giles had called them here, but all were feeling strangely wary. The air in the little store was thick with trepidation. Only two days earlier, a huge fight had broken out amongst the Scoobies. They were no closer to finding Buffy, and they were running out of options.

Willow and Tara had performed location spells over maps of every country in the world, but no light appeared to indicate Buffy's whereabouts. It looked as if she was no longer in this world. Giles had thought it was possible that if she had been kidnapped, her abductor could have used some sort of magic to cloak her, thereby diffusing any kind of locator spell. They had spent hours researching this idea; Willow had come up with a general counter-cloaking spell, but since they had no idea which direction to cast it in, it was pointless to try.

Willow and Tara had skipped a week's worth of classes since they were busy taking care of Dawn, as well as searching for Buffy. The teenager had been surprisingly calm and silent throughout this ordeal, as if she knew something no one else did, but of course, she didn't. Spike stayed with her when he wasn't patrolling at night, and she went to school during the day as if nothing in particular was wrong. The gang surmised that after everything Dawn had been through, she was now in shock and denial. She wasn't acting overtly happy, just blithely neutral, and everyone found it unnerving, but no one knew what to do about it.

Xander had barely slept in the last week and was in danger of losing his job, since he'd taken an indefinite "sick leave" in order to devote every hour to finding his missing friend. This was also a problem for Anya, who constantly reminded Xander that losing his job meant not having money, which, in turn meant no wedding. They still hadn't announced their engagement, something Anya thought would cheer everyone up, but Xander kept telling her to wait. Between Anya's grievances and his worry over Buffy, Xander thought he was soon going to split at the seams.

Anya, for her part, was sulking, but not just because of her dissatisfaction with her man. Buffy had been missing for over a week, and when the gang seemed to come to the conclusion that Buffy was no longer in this dimension, Anya came up with what she had thought was a very insightful theory. Unfortunately, her suggestion caused much strife and was the impetus for the aforementioned fight among the tight-knit, and tightly wound group.

"Hell probably took her back," Anya had stated, as if it should be plain as day to everyone.

Willow and Tara stared at her from their position on the Summers' couch, horrified. "Why? Why would you say something like that? That's horrible, even for you!" The redhead's face flushed in anger, and her eyes seemed to emit red sparks.

"Ahn-" Xander started, but was interrupted by the indignant ex-demon.

"What?" Anya shouted in confusion. "What is so awful about my theory? It makes perfect sense. No one ever likes my theories," she pouted and looked around the room at the appalled faces staring at her.

Anya spoke to Willow as one would speak to a five-year old when explaining the facts of life. "We took Buffy out of hell, and hell got mad and took her back." A growl sounded from the staircase, and everyone turned to see Spike descending after seeing Dawn off to bed.

"Don't talk like that, the Bit will hear you," he grumbled.

"It's completely possible!" Anya exclaimed, ignoring the vampire. "Demons don't like it when the souls they're torturing are stolen from their realms, they get really cranky."

"I guess you'd know," Willow spat contemptuously.

"I-it's possible, sweetie," Tara said, attempting to placate both parties, and placed a comforting hand on her girlfriend's tense shoulder. "After all, we did defy the forces of nature in order to bring her back. M-maybe it wasn't meant to last."

"Nature?" Willow exclaimed, incredulous. "How can you call the way she died natural? She jumped into a portal and her soul was sucked into hell-" The witch's tirade was cut off by yet another growl from Spike who looked as if he were ready to explode.

"And having her wake up, shut in her coffin, six feet under ground, was that natural?" he ground out between clenched teeth. Giles, who had been standing in quiet contemplation by the fireplace this whole time jumped at the vampire's accusatory tone.

"That was a mistake," Xander interjected. "We didn't think that far ahead-"

"What, did you think she was just going to appear, 'poof' and that'd be it?" Spike's voice dripped with derision. "Do you sods have any idea what that did to her?"

"And what did being in hell do to her?" Xander shot back angrily. "Maybe we did something stupid by not digging her up, but it's a hell of a lot better than leaving her where she was!"

At this, Spike let loose a loud yell of rage, no longer caring if he woke up Dawn, let alone the whole neighborhood. Everyone drew back at this display of anger; even though they knew he couldn't harm them, he was still intimidating in this state. He grabbed a small statue off the end table, and hurled it across the room. The wooden sculpture hit the wall next to Giles' head and shattered into several pieces.

"You lot don't know a fucking thing!" he shouted, pointing at the stunned group, and he stormed out of the living room and out the front door.

No one said anything for a few moments; each member of the group sat, confused by Spike's impassioned behavior and words. At last, Tara moved to go upstairs when she heard Dawn's voice calling down, asking what was wrong. The four people left in the room looked at each other silently, until Xander spoke at last.

"Well, I never thought I'd say it," he said with a mirthless chuckle. "But Spike's right, we don't know a fucking thing."

_But Spike does, _Giles thought to himself, and he strode purposefully to the front door to go after the vampire, if he could catch him. He was out the door before anyone could question him, and hours later, when he came back, he would not speak to or look at anyone, and he avoided Willow especially.

The next day, he packed his case and checked into a nearby Bed and Breakfast, adding to the friends' confusion. Now, they sat waiting for him to emerge from his office in The Magic Box, after not hearing from him for two whole days.

Giles stood poised to enter the room, unsure of how to go about telling these four exactly what they'd done. On one hand, he felt a sort of grim satisfaction in proving to Willow how arrogant she'd been, but on the other, he knew they'd all be completely devastated.

When he'd finally caught up with Spike at his crypt the other night, it had taken some doing to get the vampire to speak to him, let alone allow him inside his domain. Giles had stood in the doorway awkwardly for a moment until Spike finally told him to make up his mind whether to stay or go. Giles, feeling rather stupid for being so reticent with the vampire, stepped in and shut the door behind him.

Spike sat sullenly on his beat-up couch after having answered the door. He was clutching a bottle of Scotch that looked oddly familiar to the former librarian, but Giles decided not to press the issue.

"Something you want, Rupes?" Spike drawled, and then took a swig from the bottle. "I don't suppose you just came over for a drink, did you?"

Giles stood in the middle of the room, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Er, no Spike, I didn't," he replied, and moved to join the vampire on the couch. "May I?"

Spike barely glanced at his guest. "Suit yourself. Wanna sip?" he held out the bottle to Giles as he made himself comfortable.

"No, but thank you for offering me my own Scotch, it's very kind of you," Giles replied dryly.

Spike frowned, and looked at the bottle. "Oh, right. Thought you were selling this at your store," he offered as an explanation.

"Did you?" Giles raised an eyebrow. "Anya would charge for a button someone found on the floor, I'm sure. Where was it, exactly and how much did you pay for it?"

"Didn't pay for it," Spike mumbled, standing to walk over to a column and lean against it. "Nicked it from the cabinet in your office."

"The cabinet in my office that's always locked?" Giles looked up at him, his expression unreadable.

"'S right," Spike answered defensively. "Had a little trouble with a demon that night, thought I deserved somethin' special to relax with."

"I see," Giles felt it was time to change the subject, and he leaned forward with his elbows propped on his legs. "I got the feeling back at the house that there's something you're not telling us."

"Did you?" Spike answered, moving away from the column, and taking a drink. He strolled casually over to the small window cut into the stone on the wall.

"Yes, and I think it would be wise, if you do know something that you share it with me at least. It could help us to find Buffy. We needn't tell the others, but if Buffy is in danger anything you can tell me may help us find her."

"And how would I know anything?" Spike spat venomously. "No one keeps me in the loop around here." He began to pace, taking gulps of the amber liquid in between rants. "Old Spike's good enough when you need someone to go patrolling or to watch after the Bit, but don't tell him what's going on-"

Giles stood, and blocked the angry vampire's path. "Spike, please. Part of me doesn't want to believe it, but Anya's theory seems to make sense. We don't know where she was, and if she has been put back there somehow, she may be suffering unspeakable torment." Giles struggled to keep his composure, but the thought of the girl he'd come to love as a daughter enduring hell's agonies pained him immensely.

"Doubt that," Spike muttered under his breath, and Giles just barely caught it.

"What's that?" He took a step closer, but Spike moved away. "Spike, perhaps we don't tell you things, but- well I'm not going to offer any excuses for it, but that's beside the point. I know Buffy's been spending a lot of time with you since she returned."

At that, Spike's head shot up, his face full of confusion. "What? How do you-" he stopped himself, and dropped the question. "Doesn't matter. Yeah, she sought me out, so what?"

"So, I think she's confided in you," Giles told him with absolute certainty. "The way you reacted to everyone back there, well, it's obvious that she's kept information from us, but told it to you."

Spike smirked and looked at Buffy's Watcher, whose brow was knitted in frustration. "Jealous?" This garnered no reaction from Giles, and he dropped the snarky attitude. "I'm surprised you think she'd trust me."

"Did she?"

Spike sighed, and sat down on his haunches, the fingers of his free hand tracing patterns on the dusty floor. It seemed like hours passed before he responded. "Yeah."

"And? What did she tell you?"

"She said they could never know," Spike said, evading the question.

"Who, Willow, Xander, Tara and Anya?" Giles inquired, and Spike nodded. "They can never know." Giles repeated the phrase, cogitating on what that meant.

"O' course, I'd love for them to know," Spike murmured, his eyes following the movements of his hand. "Love to see their faces, I would."

Giles didn't reply, he just waited for Spike to continue. "When she told me, I felt so stupid for thinkin' she'd ever be sent to hell. I never even give much thought to the other place, being what I am..."

"What are you saying, Spike?" Giles breathed, a wonderful but horrifying thought beginning to grow in his mind.

Spike turned his head to look at the man. His eyes were wide behind his glasses, and he'd knelt down next to him, looking him full in the face.

"What do you mean?" Giles whispered, afraid to hear the answer.

"I mean," Spike replied steadily, his gaze never wavering. "I mean that she was never in hell to begin with."

Full realization dawned over Rupert Giles, and he almost collapsed in his shock and grief. He lifted a trembling hand to his glasses and removed them. Covering his eyes with his other hand, he staved off the tears that threatened to fall.

"She was- was she...?" he stammered.

Spike looked back down at the floor before he replied. "Yeah. She was."

Walking in a daze back to the house, he later told himself it was a miracle that he made it back without being attacked by some marauding demon. He surmised that he could have walked through a battlefield during a war, and not have noticed his surroundings. He was too stunned, too stupefied over his own blindness as to why Buffy had been so unhappy.

His girl had been at peace...happy...safe. It made perfect sense. Not just because of her melancholy, but because she deserved that. She had sacrificed so much, saved the world so many times, and her wonderful, loving soul had gone to its reward. _And it was cruelly taken from her, _he thought, _his expression darkening, by her own friends._

The anger slowly built within him, but he was still too flummoxed to know what to do with it, let alone the information he had just been given. Giles didn't know what to say to the Scoobies, so when he walked in the door, he didn't say anything. Xander and Anya had left, mercifully, and Tara was upstairs with Dawn. Willow sat on the staircase, presumably waiting for him to come back.

She looked at him, questions on her face and lips, but he couldn't look at her without exploding. Giles waved his hand at her dismissively, and headed for the basement. He recalled seeing an old cot down there once, when he'd helped Joyce move some things after her surgery last year. He decided he needed to think about what to do, and he needed to be alone.

Once he was settled on the diminutive bed, he knew he wouldn't sleep this night. Giles mulled over and over the entire situation all night, and came to the conclusion that he needed some sort of proof. He somehow knew that Spike hadn't been lying, but he couldn't go solely on the word of a vampire, however helpful he'd been in the past.

In order to find out what had happened to Buffy, he needed concrete confirmation that she hadn't been in hell. Now, he was staring at the proof as he held it in his hand, about to confront the four wary, but unsuspecting idiots in the next room with it.

Coming to a decision at last, he opened the door, and four sets of questioning eyes turned to him. Giles held out the scroll and the document on top of it to a surprised Willow, who took it tentatively, and glanced at it before looking back up at him, her brow furrowed.

"What's this? What does it mean?" Willow asked nervously at the look in her former mentor's eyes.

"It means that you are indeed very powerful, Willow," Giles replied, his voice hard and his gaze piercing. "You must be very proud. Congratulations on tearing Buffy out of the very arms of heaven." Giles watched her face contort into an expression of abject shock, then he strode coldly from the store, very much needing a drink_._

For several long minutes following Giles' departure after dropping his bomb, no one moved, save Willow, who let the missive she'd been handed fall to the floor. Tara quickly retrieved it, and read it silently. Xander and Anya watched as her eyes filled with tears, and her free hand came up to her mouth to stifle a sob.

"Oh, Goddess," she breathed and looked sorrowfully over at Willow, not knowing what to say. The redheaded witch, who still hadn't read the document was staring into space, frowning as if she was trying to grasp a memory niggling in the back of her mind. Tara placed the scroll on the table, and went to her lover, attempting to rouse her from her stupor, but didn't succeed. Xander reached for the paper, determined to understand just what was on it that made Tara so upset.

Anya got up, pushing her chair back from the table with her legs, and walked softly over to the door of the shop. Sighing, she flipped the sign in the door heralding "Come in, we're open!" to the side which bore the sad message, "Sorry, we're closed", and turned the lock in the door. It had been a slow day in any case, and she suddenly found herself in a rare mood. The gloomy atmosphere made the prospect of paying customers taste sour, and she was drained of her usual manic energy. What Giles had said made perfect sense, even more so than her original theory. The former vengeance demon had never had anything to do with the higher dimensions in her long life, but she knew of their existence. If Buffy had truly been in one of them, that would explain a lot.

Xander's tired, red-rimmed eyes scanned the document over and over, comprehension still evading him after the initial shock. His vision blurred, and the words seemed to swim on the page.

_Rupert,_

_If you had rung me this time last year, wanting to know if there was a way to determine the whereabouts of your Slayer following her demise, I would have told you it wasn't possible. The mysteries of the universe are vast and incomprehensible, as I'm sure you're aware, and who is to say where a soul goes when it departs from its body?_

_However, since Ms. Summers has returned from death a second time (another former impossibility) you tell me that she has confided to you that she was in a peaceful place that she thought could have been 'heaven'._

_While I do not profess to know about what lies beyond the veil, I now know that a discovery has been made as to what Slayers are due once they die. A few months ago, I was called to Bavaria, Germany to the site of an archaeological excavation of the ruins of a 16th century monastery. The workers had come across some preserved writings in Ancient Latin and German, for which I am known outside the Watchers Council for specializing in translating._

_Gunther Bergen, a dear friend of mine who was in charge of the excavation, asked me to come and take a look at what they'd found. Aside from a few journals and some half-finished sermons, one scroll in particular caught my attention. It had been encased in a leather roll, and was hidden away in a wall behind the altar of the church inside the seminary. Its title read (in German) "Die Belohnung des Heiligen Kriegers" or "The Holy Warrior's Reward"._

_Thinking this could have applied to any knight who served in the name of Christ and the Church, I scanned it casually until a phrase caught my eye: "She who battles the darkest evil in the world shall find peace at last in the Kingdom to come." Naturally, the fact that a woman was mentioned sparked my interest, and I set about researching this document thoroughly._

_After months of investigation, I traced the scroll as being a translation from a Latin text written by an order of monks who tended to a Slayer in the 12th century in Germany._

_The account was recorded in a journal which had turned up in a library in Cologne and it spoke of the incident in detail. She had been found mortally wounded in a field nearby their abode after a battle with a vampire who had been plaguing the area. The beast was vanquished, but not before it slashed her throat. She had mustered the will to plunge a stake into its heart, and the monster turned to dust._

_Those monks who had witnessed some of the battle carried her inside the seminary, grateful for her sacrifice. This nameless girl had given her life to save them from a horrible death._

_As she lay dying, peacefulness overcame her being, and she spoke of happiness unlike any other. The Slayer passed, her face content and beatific. This account was written by the head of the order, who then spent several days in prayer for her soul. During his meditation, he was granted a vision by God who told him that His Chosen warrior and all others who followed in her footsteps would be rewarded with "dauerhafter Friede" (everlasting peace) and would be forever at rest._

_Thus, "The Slayers Reward" was written and sanctified by the monks, who, for reasons unknown to me kept their discovery to themselves. Perhaps if they knew about the Watchers Council, they felt the knowledge would be used to manipulate rather than console._

_It is for the purposes of consolation that I turn this scroll over to you, along with the English translation, since I'm not sure if you've kept up with your German. I find that if the monks had indeed found the Watchers Council unworthy of this information, that I must agree with them. They would undoubtedly hold this above the head of any Slayer to force obedience to their decrees and orders, and I could not abide that._

_The Council has become a thorn in my side, but I won't bore you by elaborating on that. I only tell you that because I find I can no longer stomach some of their more arcane methods, which is why I will not turn the scroll over to them. Keep this scroll and preserve it, my friend. It may provide much needed comfort to future Watchers and those Slayers yet-to-be will leave behind._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Archie Crawford_

Two small wet spots marred the cream-colored paper, and caused the ink to run. Xander Harris watched the moisture spread as his tears were absorbed, and cursed himself silently.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Gimli urged his mount to a canter and sighed wearily. Three days of almost complete silence was driving him to distraction. Normally he would not have let it go on for so long, but the strange situation between his friend and the Slayer gave him pause.

It wasn't as though he hadn't made an effort to break the silence with merry chatter, trying to draw the girl out from her cocoon of gloom, but his attempts went either ignored or unheard. This did not surprise him, however, based on her strange behavior ever since they'd met. What was surprising was the behavior of the Prince of Mirkwood. Gimli was accustomed to seeing his friend in many different moods, from cheerful to wistful, to somewhat melancholy, (although he was not given to long bouts of it) as well as his fierceness and concentration in battle.

Now, he was treated to several new visages of Legolas, as he watched him become by turns nervous and twitchy, then angry, then stony and cold, back to nervous, and then just some plain old brooding. The Dwarf was finding these changes bewildering, not to mention annoying. He had also tried to draw Legolas into conversation, but just as Buffy remained mostly silent, so did the Elf.

For his own part, Legolas was finding it difficult to keep his seat on Arod due to Buffy's roiling emotions. Ever since their bond had been created, he had been attuned to her ever-changing moods, and it was making him dizzy. He wasn't sure if he preferred the times when he felt in her nothing but a cold numbness to the times when her anger and despair erupted, because both were equally frightening.

On the surface, Buffy maintained a stony demeanor during the days that ensued after her reawakening, giving no outward hint as to what was going on inside her. Legolas could not read her thoughts, and he did not sense her feelings all the time - much to his relief – but he felt it most when they rode together. That could not be avoided, however, and it seemed that the only respite he could find was when she slept.

Unbeknownst to the Slayer, Legolas had spent every night at her side after she had fallen asleep. With their new bond, he was able to prevent nightmares as well as the pleasant but deadly dreams that had threatened her life. By day, she did not speak to him except for when necessary, and by night he anchored her to the waking world while she slept.

Buffy could not seem to recall what she dreamt at night, or if she dreamt at all. She was sleeping well, she knew, waking up refreshed and rested at the beginning of each day, but was not sure how that change had come about. She was grateful for that, however, and she didn't question it too much.

In fact, Buffy didn't question anything or speak at all, being too absorbed in her own quagmire of despair and anger during the day. Despite how well she slept at night, Buffy's heart was still heavy and her mind full of dark thoughts. She knew her silence was bothering her companions, but she couldn't bring herself to talk, for fear that she'd spill all of her secrets. Doing so, in Buffy's point of view, would cause the darkness to completely overtake her soul rather than release a burden. It was unreasonable, but her secretive and repressive nature after all her years as the Slayer demanded she keep her vulnerabilities closed off, even to friends.

"A song!"

Buffy was startled from her maudlin thoughts by the Dwarf's gruff shout.

Legolas turned to his friend, grateful for the interruption of his brooding. "What was that, Master Dwarf?"

"A song, a story, something, anything, please!" Gimli cried out in exasperation. "Just no more of this unbearable silence. I'm going mad!"

_Apparently, so am I,_ thought Legolas, as he fought down another wave of Buffy's anger. He was in complete agreement with his friend. They could not continue on in this manner any longer, and he soothed himself with the Elven Hymn to the Star Kindler.

"_A Elbereth Gilthoniel, silivren penna míriel o menel aglar elenath!" _

Buffy listened, entranced, as Legolas sang. His ethereal voice, combined with the haunting notes of the music, washed over her, and all her anger and sadness faded away. She had never heard him sing full voice; he would sing very quietly as she fell asleep sometimes, and it calmed her, but now a glorious feeling of peace settled on her and she felt languid and boneless and leaned back against him.

"_Na-chaered palan-díriel o galadhremmin ennorath, Fanuilos, le linnathon nef-–_"

"No, no, no!"

Buffy sat back up abruptly at Gimli's outburst. _The pretty music stopped, why?_ she raged internally.

"What is the matter?" Legolas barked irritably at his friend.

"I'll fall asleep if you sing that mournful tune," Gimli replied apologetically.

"It is not mournful, it is-"

The Dwarf cut off Legolas' protest tersely. "I know, I know! But it isn't time to sleep yet, and if you sing that one I'll fall off my mount."

"I do not see what you are worried about," Legolas replied archly. "You haven't very far to fall in any case."

Buffy thought the noise that Gimli let out sounded sort of like an elephant whose trunk had been tied in a knot. Her lips quirked a little, but her stubborn gloominess did not allow more than that.

"Sing something lively, will you!" Gimli exclaimed, now so vexed that he caused his pony to object noisily to the disturbance.

"Well, what would you like to hear, Master Dwarf?" Legolas snapped. His own ire as well as Buffy's was rising higher with each syllable uttered, and he was beginning to think the previous silence had been preferable. "I would suggest you sing something for us, but..." He trailed off with a smirk at the Dwarf, whose singing voice was, at the very least, barely tolerable.

"But what, Elf?" Gimli challenged with a raised bushy eyebrow. He could not fathom just what had gotten into his friend. It was not unusual for them to trade insults, but it was always in good fun. Now, they were practically at each other's throats over a trifling subject.

"Nothing," Legolas replied. "Just that there are no Dwarvish songs that merit listening to in civilized company, and–"

"Insult the language and lore of the Dwarves, will you?" Gimli roared. "We do not sing our songs outside of our domains. The secret tongue of the Dwarves is sacred!"

"I begin to doubt that there is any such language at all, _adar dithen_," Legolas shot back mockingly. "Why would you keep it a secret otherwise? In fact–"

"I'll give you language that would make your pointy ears burn, you–"

"Oh, just sing if you're going to sing, just stop bickering like two little old ladies!"

Elf and Dwarf both stopped suddenly, stunned by the first complete sentence uttered by Buffy in the last three days. Legolas thought back over the harsh things he'd said, and immediately felt ashamed of himself for goading his dear friend.

"I know not what possessed me to speak to you thusly, Gimli, Elf-friend. Please forgive my rash and callous behavior." Despite his words, the Elf did know what had caused all this rancor. His connection with Buffy was grating on him now more than ever, and he was beside himself not knowing what to do about it.

Gimli eyed his companion suspiciously. He resolved to corner the Elf after they'd stopped riding for the evening and demand an explanation for his unusual shifts of mood. Whatever it was, he was determined to put an end to it, as Legolas was now a dear friend of his heart, and he would not have that tie severed for anything or anyone.

When he gave the matter a moment's thought, he realized this strangeness had begun after Buffy's awakening. He had not been present when this had occurred, and the Elf did not enlighten him as to how he had revived the girl, but he had a distinct feeling that whatever had been done was at the bottom of this. It was clearly harming the Elf, and in any case, they could not continue on to Imladris in this fashion without killing each other.

Gimli became even more determined to put a stop to the nonsense of the past few minutes, so he accepted Legolas' apology and told him he could sing whatever he wanted.

Legolas smiled gratefully at the Dwarf and searched his mind for something his friend would like. Hearing a bird cry in the distance, he was immediately reminded of the cries of the gulls that had awoken his longing for the Sea just a short time ago.

"_Nan Aear, nan Aear! In gwael 'lain nallar, i hûl rîb, ah i falf 'lan revia."_

Relieved that her two guides had stopped the madness, Buffy closed her eyes again to listen to the Elf's song. This one was a little more livelier than the one before it, but it still had the same effect.

_Maybe Elves just have some kind of soothing magic when they sing,_ she pondered. _They could corner the market on stress-relief remedies back home._

Visions of sea gulls and a blue ocean filled Buffy's mind, and although she did not understand the words, she sensed the longing they evoked.

"_Annûn, palannûn, Anor gorn danna; Cair thind, cair thind, lathrach as syn canel, i lamath en-gwaith nín in gwanner minui?"_

Buffy felt as if she were actually on the sea in a boat...a grey one. The sun was setting, and she was heading towards it, listening to the cries of the birds above her. Looking down, she watched the white-capped waves lapping at the sides of the ship and heard another sound. The voices sang sweetly to her, calling her home.

"_Gwannathon, gwannathon in eryn i nin onnant; Eraid vín methar ah idhrinn vín pelir. Trevedithon i nín laind ereb ciriel."_

She was leaving, at long last. Leaving to spend eternity at peace. Away from grief, illness, despair, and away from all her burdens. A powerful longing swelled in her heart until she thought it would burst. The voices sang to her, louder now. She felt as though she was almost there, could almost touch the shores of the place where she would forever be safe, but it was still so far away and unreachable to her. Anguish, like nothing else she'd felt since her resurrection coursed through her heart, and she cried out:

"Stop!"

All singing cut off abruptly, and everything was still. The horses halted their lively steps, and nickered in apprehension. Buffy jolted upwards, her eyes opening wide. Breathing hard, she looked at her shocked companions, who stared at her in puzzlement and surprise.

"I-I'm sorry," she gasped.

"What is the matter, Buffy?" Legolas jumped down from his mount to soothe the nervous beast, and to look at the source of his consternation these last three days full in the face.

"Sing- sing something else, okay?" she asked imploringly, and deftly swallowed the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes. "I don't like that one. It makes me feel–"

"Sad?" Legolas finished for her, suddenly sympathetic. "Yes, it makes me a little sad too, I must admit. I am sorry it disturbed you."

Abashed, Buffy glanced over at Gimli who was eyeing her speculatively, and blanched at his piercing look. "I'm sorry I'm being such a pain." She looked down and began to fidget with the horse's white mane.

Legolas cursed himself silently for his annoyance towards the small girl. Whatever he was suffering it was obviously nothing compared to hers. He patted her hand reassuringly, and nimbly mounted Arod behind the girl he was sworn to guard and guide.

"Never mind," he said, and tapped his heel on the horse's right flank. Arod hesitated a moment, as if he disapproved of the extra rider now, but Legolas gave him more encouragement, and eased him into a smooth canter.

"The one you sang before," Buffy mumbled.

"What's that?" Legolas replied, puzzled.

"Sing that one. I liked that one," she said tiredly, and leaned back against the Elf once more, her eyes drifting shut.

Legolas glanced over at Gimli, whose prior disapproval of the hymn had started the altercation. The Dwarf just rolled his eyes, and shrugged, urging his friend to go ahead. Legolas smiled at him in reply and drew breath to begin the song.

"_A Elbereth Gilthoniel, silivren penna míriel o menel aglar elenath..."_

_

* * *

_

_It can't be true, it can't be true..._

Willow repeated this mantra in her mind over and over until she'd almost convinced herself of her innocence.

_I can't have done anything so awful as that. I'm one of the good guys..._

Sitting in the Summers' living room, she stared at her hands. Her hands had hacked their way through top secret computer files, leafed through ancient texts to find answers, had conducted power that surged through her body to cure Tara of her madness. It had all been for good, in order to save lives. But her hands had also slaughtered that fawn, and brought her best friend back from the grave, tearing her from eternal rest.

"How do we really know it's true?"

Three pairs of eyes had turned to stare at Willow, startled by her question after her long, bewildered silence. It had been three days since Giles had shown them the documents that confirmed that Buffy had not been in hell. Two days since a strained conference between Xander and the former Watcher revealed that Spike had been the one to whom Buffy had confessed. One day since Dawn stared at them all accusingly with tear-filled eyes after Giles had tried to tell her the truth as gently as possible.

Three days of mostly silence among the group of friends, only speaking about perfunctory things after their eyes were opened. Willow hadn't spoken at all, not asking questions, or offering excuses. She wasn't in a trancelike state; she just had an eerie quietness about her that the others, not even Tara could break through. She moved around on her own, and ate and slept when necessary, but her voice and her thoughts seemed to be locked up deep inside until this moment.

Relieved that her girlfriend had found her voice again, Tara questioned her gently. "What do you mean, sweetie?"

Willow looked at Tara, her eyes suddenly showing skepticism where only confusion and sorrow had been until now. "Spike says Buffy told him she was in heaven." She looked around at her friends. "Spike! Why would Buffy tell him that and not us? He could be making it up!"

"I-I don't think he is, sweetie." Tara told her, shaking her head. "He's got nothing to gain from making up something like that."

"Believe me, Willow, I'm the last person that would go to bat for Spike, but I've got to say, I agree," Xander offered apologetically. "Besides, Giles had that scroll-"

"Pfft!" Willow interjected. "A scroll written by monks thousands of years ago. That's hardly dependable. The priest could have just written it as a theory. It's based on a religion that not all slayers are a part of, and- and Spike would so totally lie about this!" Willow jumped up and angrily paced the room, her voice becoming shaky and higher pitched with each word. "He's just mad that we didn't include him, and so he made this up to make us feel bad! He's probably the one who took Buffy somewhere and hid her, because he's obsessed with her."

Xander, Tara and Anya eyed each other in alarm, listening to Willow's irrational ramblings. Xander moved forward, and seized her by the arms, ceasing her steps. But before he could try to calm her, Willow shoved him hard, making him stumble backwards onto the couch.

"No! Don't try to tell me I'm wrong, or crazy, or whatever it was you were going to say! You didn't want to bring Buffy back, none of you did!" She glared at the group accusingly. "But I did it and I saved her. I did!" Tears spilled down Willow's cheeks and she began to shake violently. "Nobody knows if there's really a heaven. Nobody knows where people go when they die-"

"You thought you did!" Anya's sharp voice cut through Willow's rantings. "You were so sure she was in hell, and you made us all think that, and now look what you've done. Everything's out of whack and everyone's feeling horrible, because you were so hell-bent on bringing Buffy back!"

"Ahn," Xander stood and grabbed Anya's arm, but she twisted out of his grasp. "Anya," he said more firmly. "Don't..."

"Don't? That's all you ever tell me is 'don't'. 'Don't talk about our sex life Anya, don't be so blunt with people, don't say what you really think and feel, and don't tell people we're engaged!"

This last statement was followed by a stunned silence. Willow looked as if she were about to explode, and Xander just looked dismayed.

"You're engaged?" Tara asked, wiping the tears that had formed while watching her friends fall apart. "That's um...that's great. Congratulations."

Xander smiled ruefully. "Thanks. Uh, this really wasn't the way I wanted to tell you guys, but uh, yeah, we're getting married." He glanced at Anya's angry face and reconsidered. "At least I think we still are."

Anya sank down on the couch, feeling horrible that she'd ruined the happy news she'd wanted to lord over everyone all summer. Now that the cat was out of the bag, it was unlikely she'd get the accolades that brides-to-be always received, since the moment was spoiled. She felt Xander sit beside her, his arm caressing her shoulders, and pulling her close to his side. Anya grudgingly leaned into him; regret coursing through her at the same time Xander whispered apologies into her ear.

"We're getting off subject!" Willow snapped.

"Willow, honey, please-"

"No, Tara," Willow softened her tone for her girlfriend. "I saved her. I know I did. I-I could never do something so-so awful..." The young woman sank to her knees on the floor, and her shaking grew more pronounced, and her sobs increased. "How could I do something so awful?" she wept. Tara put her arms around Willow and held her tight.

"Shhh," she crooned soothingly.

"I should have known," Willow leaned into Tara's body, seeking solace from the guilt that crushed her being. "I'm so stupid, I should have known. Oh God!" Her breath started to increase, and she was close to hyperventilating as her sobs wracked her body.

Tara gathered Willow closer to her, trying to be comforting, but inwardly alarmed at how rapidly Willow was dissolving into a puddle of remorse and self-loathing. She looked to Xander, her eyes communicating a silent appeal for his assistance, and with a squeeze of Anya's hand, he moved to the floor, and reached towards his best friend since childhood, embracing her along with Tara.

Anya watched the three silently, feeling all sorts of disagreeable things; the most unnerving was the guilt for her own part in this debacle, and for yelling at Willow who was so horribly distraught. Surprising everyone, including herself, she stood and said, "I'll go make her some tea," and walked towards the kitchen.

Tara smiled at her gratefully and called out, "There's some soothing herbs in the cupboard over the microwave."

"All right," Anya called back. She returned five minutes later with a steaming mug of the calming brew.

They had some difficulty getting Willow to drink and swallow the tea, but eventually the cup was empty, and Tara guided a subdued and sniffling Willow up to bed.

Xander turned to his fiancée, inwardly hoping he could still think of her thus, and pulled her to him in a warm embrace. "You're wonderful, you know that?" he murmured.

"No, I'm not," Anya grumbled, her face burrowed into her intended's shoulder. "I say inappropriate, negative things, and make people upset." She sighed regretfully and pulled back to look in his eyes. "Plus, I ruined our engagement announcement, and now our friends won't throw us a party and give us presents. It's all tainted now."

Xander just chuckled lightly, and hugged her closer. "You still wanna marry me?"

Anya snorted, and looked up at him again. "Of course. Don't be silly. I don't think I'll ever find anyone else who would understand me as much as you do, and give me the orgasms I require."

Breathing in a sigh of relief, Xander kissed her on the temple, then touched their foreheads together, staring deep into her eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he said, and kissed her tenderly before grabbing their coats, and opening the front door. "I don't know about you, but I could use a break from all this angst."

Tara lay back against the pillows, holding Willow to her breast and listening to her steady breathing. She fought sleep, wanting to make sure that her girlfriend would safely drift off first, so she could watch over her for a while. Finally, Willow's eyes closed, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding in.

Tara didn't know how to help her girlfriend, nor did she know how they would all endure the pain of losing Buffy for the second time as well as living with the knowledge of the pain they'd caused the Slayer. Now that they knew for sure where she'd been, they'd have to figure out where Buffy was now. Could Anya's theory have been right, only in reverse? Could heaven have taken her back? She hoped it was so, but she couldn't rid herself of the niggling suspicion that something within the resurrection spell had played a part in the Slayer's disappearance. Tara decided she'd wait a few days before approaching Giles with her worries. They all needed some time to recover from the fallout before they launched back into research mode.

"I have to fix this," Willow mumbled, startling Tara out of her reverie.

"What?" she replied, and looked down to see her girlfriend's eyes were closed. She jogged her shoulder lightly to see if she was awake, and thought perhaps Anya hadn't used enough of the soothing herbs. "Willow?"

"Have to...fix...forget that she...fix the mistake..." Willow mumbled, and then turned over and began to snore lightly.

Tara rolled to her side, and spooned her lover, stroking her arm gently. _Maybe Anya used too much of the soothing herbs,_ she mused, and yawned widely before exhaustion took her over, and she drifted off to sleep.

A few hours later, Willow's eyes opened, and she sat up gingerly. She glanced down at Tara and smiled sadly, watching the woman she loved sleep peacefully. She felt a pang of jealousy of her lover's guilt-free sleep. Tara and the others didn't carry as much blame as she did, and she wished she could just forget about all of it and sleep easily.

Suddenly seized with a faint memory, Willow climbed out of bed, and crept over to the cedar chest at the foot of the bed where her spell books were stored. Pulling out an enormous tome, she leafed through the yellowed pages until she found what she was looking for. She glanced over the ingredients of the spell, making note of which items she'd need to pilfer from The Magic Box.

_This will work,_ she thought as she traced the black, ornate lettering of the spell's title: _Tabula Rasa_.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The small traveling party entered Dunland two days later. Much to Gimli's dismay, Legolas sang the Elves' Hymn to the Star Kindler as often as requested by the Slayer. She found the melody and strange words soothing, and would hear nothing else. Legolas obliged since the song seemed to make her more agreeable and calm, and he reaped many benefits from that. It was a long song in any case, so he hadn't had to sing much of it before she'd fall asleep.

Buffy herself was feeling much more at ease since her rude awakening, and a little of the shadow that had fallen over her heart dissipated as the days went by. She discovered that Legolas' presence was helping her, so she made a conscious effort to be more considerate of him and of Gimli as well. Besides, she was getting tired of being so glum all the time. Night was approaching swiftly when, for the first time, Buffy inquired about the meaning of the song.

"It is a hymn to the most beloved of the Valar. She is the Star-Maiden, Varda, or Elbereth as the song names her."

"So, she's like a goddess or something?" Buffy asked.

"She gives the light to the stars, the first lights beheld by the Elves when they awoke," Legolas replied.

Buffy rolled her eyes at Legolas' lyrical response. "And again, I ask, she's a goddess or something?"

"Or something," the Elf echoed back.

Buffy turned her head to look up at him. "Can't you just give me a straight answer for once?" she complained.

Legolas, seized by an inexplicable urge to tease her, merely smiled mysteriously in reply, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Buffy's eyes widened in surprise at his flirtatious expression. She felt her heart give a girlish flutter, and immediately chastised herself. _Oh, no you don't, Buffy! Knock that off right now! _To quell her unnerving reaction, she frowned at him disapprovingly and scolded, "You know, being all cryptic like that might usually get you all the chicks you want, but it won't work on me, Buster!"

"Why would I act strangely in order to acquire chickens?" Legolas inquired, genuinely confused.

Buffy, disarmed by his earnestness, let loose a loud giggle, and Legolas' heart warmed to the sound. He laughed as well, wondering why the people of her world would compete for poultry. Perhaps it was a time-honored custom at festivals, he thought. Buffy answered his question when she caught her breath.

"By 'chicks' I mean women," she explained. "Men like to impress and attract women, and some do it by putting on an air of mystery. I've been known to fall for it myself," she added wryly.

Before Legolas could ask her to elaborate on that statement, Buffy changed the subject. "God, I stink right now. When's the next bath time?"

Thrown off by the blunt declaration, Legolas didn't answer for a moment, but then replied, "I think I hear a stream running through that copse of trees. Perhaps we could stop for the night and you may bathe there." He indicated a small wooded area near the foot of the mountain.

"How can you hear a stream from over here?" Buffy asked, incredulous. "I don't hear anything except for Gimli's snoring." They laughed at the Dwarf's expense and glanced back at him. His bearded chin had dropped to his chest after too many performances of Buffy's favorite song. His stalwart pony plodded along behind them, even as he swayed in the saddle and snorted every now and then.

"Elven ears are sharper than Men's," Legolas told her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Buffy retorted sarcastically. "Elves are better than humans, that's what I keep hearing."

"I never said–"

"Oh, you don't have to," Buffy interrupted. "Why didn't your gods just make a whole planet full of Elves and leave it at that if they're so great? Next you'll be telling me your sh- uh," Buffy stopped herself short of suggesting that the excrement of Elves was not malodorous. She didn't think Legolas would be able to handle that one.

"Yes?" Legolas prompted.

"Um, your shipyards smell like roses," Buffy offered lamely. _Nice one,_ she chided herself. _Shipyards?_

"Er..."

"I'm just kidding, Legs. What else about Elves should I know? Do you have super-sight too? X-Ray vision? Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound?" she teased.

Legolas shook his head, not understanding half her words, but glad that her humor was manifesting itself again. He didn't care for any of the nicknames she gave him, however.

"It is very strange," he mused aloud. "It seems as if we are speaking the same language, and yet we are not."

"Hardy har har," Buffy responded snidely.

"You see?" Legolas laughed. "That is an entirely foreign phrase to me. What does it mean?"

"It's intended to convey sarcastic laughter. As in: 'you think you're soooooo funny', but more concise." Buffy explained.

"Hm. In all my years of speaking Westron, I have never heard such a phrase."

"'Scuse me?" Buffy asked, thoroughly confused.

"Hm?"

"West what?"

"What's west?"

"You said you've been speaking West-something?"

"Yes, Westron," Legolas replied, frowning.

"What's that?" Buffy twisted around to look at the Elf.

"The language we are speaking." Legolas looked down at her, feeling, and not for the first or last time, completely bewildered by this girl. She did not know what language she spoke?

"That's funny, I thought we were speaking English," Buffy turned back around, and sat up straight in the saddle. "Did I learn something new when I came here? A crash course across dimensions or something? Or...are English and Westron the same thing?" Buffy could feel a headache coming on. "I can't think about this, or my eyes will cross."

"Eng-lish? I have never heard of it," Legolas murmured. It was inconceivable that her tongue could be coincidentally one and the same with the common language of Middle Earth. "I am afraid I am at as great a loss for an explanation as you are."

"Well, confusion loves company, so at least I'm not alone in that," Buffy quipped. She paused when she heard herself contradict what five plus years of being the Chosen One had taught her: that she was always alone no matter what. This put a damper on her relaxed mood, and the gloom started to descend again.

Legolas felt a small tug at his heart and sensed a change in Buffy's demeanor. He tapped his horse's flank to hasten his steps to the copse of trees where Buffy could bathe. He figured she might be able to preserve her lighter spirits if she were comfortable and clean. The Elf turned around to glance at his Dwarven companion.

Gimli was muttering in his sleep, and Legolas was amused to hear him mumble "I've got seventeen of them already, Elf!" into his beard. A pity he had to wake him.

"Gimli!" he shouted, but his friend did not respond. "Gimli!" he cried more sharply, and at that the Dwarf awoke with a start, fierce and ready for battle.

"What? Where are they? How many of them are- oh," Gimli looked around, realizing that they were no longer at the Deeping Wall in Rohan, and turned a bit red when he saw the Elf smirking at him. "Don't surprise a Dwarf like that, laddie, you ought to know better."

"My apologies, Master Dwarf," Legolas chuckled. "We will be stopping here for the night. I did not want you to continue on alone in your sleep."

"Most courteous of you, friend." Gimli replied gruffly.

They rode along in silence until they reached their intended campsite. Buffy groaned as Legolas helped her down from the horse. She stretched her stiff limbs and cracked her back. Even with Slayer strength, her body ached from riding all day. Taking a deep breath in, she grimaced when she caught a whiff of her own body odor mixed with that distinctive horse smell. Adding to her discomfort was the itching on her legs and her armpits, due to a week of neglect. Once more, she found herself fervently wishing for a disposable razor, and some shaving gel.

"Gimme some soap, and point me to the river," Buffy commanded the Elf, holding out her hand. To her surprise, Legolas grasped it with his own.

"Stay a moment while I tend to Arod, and then I will show you and keep watch," he said.

"You're going to watch me bathe?" Buffy asked him, eyebrow raised skeptically. "I don't think I'm entirely comfortable with that."

Legolas' ears turned a charming shade of pink at the suggestion. "Of course not! I will simply guard the area, in case a stranger should approach. You can defend yourself, I know," he added when he saw Buffy was about to object.

"That's right," she reminded him. "No need to be all über-protective and stuff. Besides, there's no one around here for miles."

* * *

"Hey!"

"What was that?" asked Gimli as he turned a rabbit on the spit over the fire.

"Buffy!" Legolas answered, grabbing a blade from his rucksack and charging into the bushes where the stream flowed. Gimli picked up his axe and followed. The scene they came upon gave them cause to avert their eyes: Buffy, dripping wet and clad only in her bra and panties, was fighting off the advances of an unkempt wild man. She delivered a swift kick to his chest, which sent him flying away from her to the ground. He lay there, winded for half a moment, but the determination and resilience of his race, as well as lust for the scantily-clad woman in front of him gave him the ability to rise and start towards Buffy once more.

"Buffy, go and cover yourself, we will deal with him!" Legolas instructed, as he strode to intercept the attacker. He was horrified that Buffy was forced to defend herself while almost completely naked. Humans were awfully sensitive about things like nudity, and besides, that high kick had given him quite an eyeful. However, Buffy was already barreling toward the man and she rudely knocked the well-meaning Elf out of the way.

"I just got clean, you son of a- " she fumed before the man's chin met her fist in a fierce uppercut. "Now I'm gonna have to take another bath because you breathed on me!" The bedraggled man staggered backwards once again, fell clumsily into the water and began to thrash about.

"Great, now the water's all contaminated by Smelly Hairy Man," Buffy grumbled. Even though she had scrubbed a few layers of grime from her body, she doubted that her erstwhile attacker had ever seen a bar of soap in his life, or a toothbrush, for that matter.

After a few more frantic attempts to prevent himself from drowning, the pile of rags and hair seemed to realize that he was standing in shallow water. Before anyone could take any further action, he made his way to the land, and after shaking himself like a large dog, he ran away, disappearing into the trees.

Donning her sweater and jeans, which could have done with a thorough washing as well, Buffy turned to see Legolas frowning at her disapprovingly, and Gimil shaking with laughter. "What?" she demanded testily. Being spied on while bathing had not left her in an amiable mood.

"You were...unclothed," Legolas replied, obviously uncomfortable with the previous scene.

Buffy rolled her eyes at the Elf's preoccupation with her state of dress. "I'm okay, thanks for your concern guys. Having a cave man jump me while I was getting dressed wasn't horrible at all," Buffy snapped.

Legolas blushed and Gimli chortled, but the Dwarf provided an apt apology for not inquiring about her welfare. Legolas added his sentiments to that statement, but expressed concern for how embarrassed Buffy must have been.

"Relax," she told them. "It not like no one's ever seen it before, anyway." She was perplexed by Legolas' face turning as red as Gimli's beard. "What, did I corrupt you, or something?" she asked.

Gimli let out a sharp bark of laughter, and strolled back to camp, shaking his head. Buffy looked to the Elf for an explanation, but he just muttered something unintelligible and made to follow Gimli.

Legolas honestly didn't know why seeing Buffy without clothes had made him feel so unsettled. At his age, he was beyond such concerns, he told himself. Feeling ridiculous for behaving like a silly elfing, Legolas turned to apologize for his behavior, when he saw Buffy concealing a very familiar object up the sleeve of her sweater: one of his knives.

Had he dropped it? He felt for the dagger he'd tucked into his belt after the brief fray, and sure enough, it was still there. Legolas cleared his throat, and Buffy started guiltily. She saw his stern expression, and his outstretched hand, and she sheepishly drew the blade from its hiding place. Legolas snatched it from her hand before she could place it in his.

"How did you come to have this?" he demanded, irate that she had dared to take his weapon without asking, and angry that he had not noticed.

"Um, I just...borrowed it...for protection, you know."

The Elf looked unconvinced by this explanation. "Why did you not ask then? Or use the axe that Gimli leant you?"

It was Buffy's turn to blush, and she stammered. "Well, 'cause...axes don't...they're not really feasible for what...I needed it for?" she smiled weakly as her justification turned into a question.

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "And what did you need it for?" he asked, trying to keep calm.

Suddenly, Buffy found a reprieve in the scent of cooking meat coming from the campsite. "Say, I'm just famished. Is that bunny I smell?" She slipped past the confounded Elf, and ran to the safety of the Dwarf's company.

She did feel bad for borrowing his knife without asking, but figured that the cuts and razor burn under her arms and on her legs in the absence of any aloe vera lotion was punishment enough.

_Not to mention the fact that Legolas saw me in my underwear._ A little thrill shivered down Buffy's spine. _Legolas saw me in my underwear!_ her mind chanted over and over, until she just wanted to curl up in a little ball and hide. It was embarrassing, but strangely thrilling. She wondered what Legolas looked like in his underwear. If he wore any, that is. _Do Elves wear undies? Boxers or briefs?_ Suddenly, a visual of Legolas wearing tightie-whities entered her mind, and her face flushed. A smile crept across her features, and a little giggle escaped.

It suddenly occurred to her that she was thinking of something other than her depressing situation, and she giggled again. Her bath had been a brood fest, but this time she hadn't needed the Elf's music therapy. Not that she minded that, but she couldn't depend on him all the time. Buffy was almost grateful to the Smelly Hairy Guy for the distraction. Almost. Instead of the heaviness that had dragged her down for the last few months, her heart felt a little lighter. It wasn't much, but it was progress, she figured.

_And all it took was for me to give a peep show to an Elf and a Dwarf and– ew! Gimli saw me in my underwear!_ Buffy glanced surreptitiously at Gimli, who was whistling to himself as he divided up equal portions of rabbit for their dinner. Buffy's cheeks flushed even darker, and she quickly looked away when the Dwarf caught her eye and smirked. _Well, never talking to him again, _she thought, as an unwelcome vision of Gimli in Speedos manifested itself.

Her musings were interrupted by the arrival of the aforementioned Elf, whose countenance suggested that he was in a rather foul temper. He still held the blade that Buffy had used, and he stood and glared at her for a moment, before seating himself on a rock. He reached into his rucksack, retrieved a whetting stone, and began to sharpen the weapon, all the while glowering at Buffy pointedly.

Buffy cringed inwardly, but adopted a façade of innocence as she accepted her portion of the meal from Gimli, who had given her a questioning glance when he saw Legolas' sour demeanor. She'd enjoyed rabbit meat the few times they had eaten it for dinner. It could have used some mint jelly, and maybe a side dish of mashed potatoes or French fries, but Buffy figured she couldn't afford to be too choosy. It certainly beat eating lembas twenty-four/seven. She desperately hoped that this place they were going to had some good restaurants, or inns, or whatever passed for public eating establishments in this world. Since they hadn't yet come across any kind of civilization in their journey (Ents at Isengard notwithstanding), she didn't have any idea what to expect from it.

Wishing for a napkin, (who would have thought she'd think to miss those?) Buffy licked the juices from the meat off of her hands. She started to ask Gimli about their destination, but not wanting to picture him in a banana hammock again, she averted her gaze and busied herself with finger-combing her damp, tangled hair.

"So, Gim, what's this place like that we're going to?" she inquired casually.

"Eh?" Gimli was startled out of his own musings over what was bothering the Elf when he heard Buffy's question. "Imladris is very beautiful. I think you will like it very much. Even though the place is a dwelling of Elves, I myself find it quite delightful. In fact,-" Gimli's description was cut off by an aggravated yell from Legolas.

"Soap!"

Buffy's head snapped up, her hair flipping droplets of water in Gimli's face. "Wha?" she responded stupidly.

Legolas stood from his perch on the rock and stalked towards her, his face a mask of pure fury. Buffy's heart pounded and she sat frozen to the spot as she watched him move, catlike, until he crouched before her, holding up the knife she'd 'borrowed' in front of her eyes.

"There is soap embedded in the etchings on the blade, and in the groove on the handle," he uttered, his voice low and dangerous.

Buffy focused on the weapon he held, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. Apparently, she hadn't cleaned it off as well as she'd thought. Buffy knew better than to use a knife, especially one so exquisite for personal hygiene purposes, but in the face of temptation, she had folded like a house of cards, and she felt thoroughly ashamed of herself. As she opened her mouth to apologize, however, Legolas cut her off harshly.

"These twin blades were given to me by my father. They had been a gift from his own dear father who fell in the War of the Last Alliance." Legolas grasped Buffy's chin, and forced her to meet his burning gaze. "The steel was forged by the Elven smiths of Lorien and the handles are carved from the trees of that realm. They were blessed by the Lady Galadriel herself, and placed into my grandfather's hands. No one has ever touched these weapons that is not of my kin." Legolas stood, towering over Buffy, and making her feel absolutely miniscule. "Do not ever presume to put your hands on them ever again."

With that last imperious pronouncement, the Elven Prince strode back to the rock he had previously occupied, and began to painstakingly remove the tarnish of Buffy's carelessness from the knife.

Gimli shook his head, and blew out the breath he'd been holding throughout that scene. He had thought that Buffy would have had a little more respect for weaponry, especially weapons that did not belong to her, but one could never tell with females. He scratched his head, trying to figure out why in Arda she had put soap on the blade, and wondered if he should ask for his axe back just in case. Before he could do so, he heard a small sound come from the Slayer, who sat across from him looking contrite and dejected.

"I..." Buffy halted, not sure if she should even try to offer an explanation or apology. Her progress had come to a screeching halt. Her lighter mood had once again been interrupted by catastrophe, but this time it was entirely her fault. She had been putting her own needs, even trivial ones ahead of everyone else's, and it suddenly occurred to her that she did that quite a lot.

Looking up at Gimli, who eyed her in bewilderment, she turned away, and decided that this time was better spent in quiet reflection, rather than offering stumbling apologies and stubborn defenses.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 

Legolas stirred the sputtering fire back to life as the night became chilly. He was still hugely annoyed with Buffy for her infraction, but his fierce anger had cooled somewhat. She had been silent ever since his severe scolding, and he knew she felt remorseful, so he wouldn't stay angry, but he was not about to let the matter drop yet. He wanted a sincere apology from her and her promise never to touch his belongings again.  
  
The knife was not damaged, and even if Buffy had succeeded in sneaking it back into its sheath without his knowledge, it was unlikely to have been any worse off. He had overreacted, but it just rankled him beyond reason that she had taken his prized knife and used it so carelessly. Legolas was aware she could handle any weapon with deftness and skill, but to use it in such a manner was foolish since she could have cut herself severely, and it was disrespectful. Even though his blades had been covered in things much more foul than soap, her recent employment of said weapon seemed to defile it somewhat.  
  
Legolas glanced over to where Buffy stood leaning against an oak tree, singing softly to herself as she stared out into the night. He smiled ruefully, knowing that under different circumstances, she would have asked him to sing to her, but didn't dare to now. He sensed her regrets over her selfishness and the underlying sadness that was always there. Listening to her barely audible voice, he picked out the strange melody and words she sang.  
  
"Can't smile without you; I can't smile without you. I can't laugh, and I can't sing. I'm finding it hard to do anything. You see, I feel sad when you're sad; I feel glad when you're glad. If you only knew what I'm going through, you'd know I can't smile without you..."  
  
Legolas almost laughed at the irony of the verse considering their bond, and was tempted to heal the breach at that moment, but decided it would be better for her to come to him first.  
  
She really was an endearing little creature, however infuriating and confounding she could be at times. All part of her charm, he supposed. Legolas had dismissed his earlier discomfiture when he'd seen her unclothed as simply an exaggerated reaction to the unexpected sight, and her apparent danger of being ravished by the Dunlending. He was thankful that the feral man had run off, but he was eager to be out of the borders of this land. The Wild Men were sworn enemies of Rohan, and not too long ago, had allied themselves with the treacherous Saruman to make war. They were cold blooded and merciless and would not hesitate to kill, maim and rape at will.  
  
Buffy was more than able to hold her own in battle, of that Legolas had no doubt. Though her burden and sadness reminded him of the Ringbearer, her steely strength and aloofness reminded him of the White Lady of Rohan. But where the Shieldmaiden's beauty put one in mind of a mistral, a cold, sharp wind, Buffy's was in contrast like a warm, summer breeze; a zephyr. It was more than fitting that her name was Summers. Her bronzed skin should have been a deterrent to her looks, since the elleths and human women that Legolas considered beautiful possessed pale, alabaster skin, but it was not.  
  
The Elf found himself admiring what he had seen of her form by the stream earlier that day. It was hidden beneath her clothing now, but the image seemed to be burned on his brain. She was small and delicate, but her petite body disguised the strength of ten elf warriors, and her spirit even more besides. But despite all her mettle and independence, he longed to draw her close and protect her from her fears...from whatever haunted her so. Warmth spread throughout his being, and a wave of possessive tenderness seized him and he felt a stirring in his gut that he had not felt in centuries.  
  
Legolas blinked, startled at where his thoughts were leading him. When had he started thinking of Buffy as being beautiful? He knew he possessed compassionate feelings for her before this, but that was only because he was concerned for her as one would feel concern for a troubled child. And that was what she was, he reminded himself, a troubled child. Why should a girl not even a quarter of a century old inspire a sensation such as the one that was making his trousers uncomfortable? Legolas took a few deep breaths, and closed his eyes to gain control of himself. Was this why he had been so perturbed after that incident with the Dunlending? The Elf stood abruptly and shook his head, pacing away from the fire into the cooler night air. _Of course not, _he thought. _I am beyond such things now.  
_  
Legolas had never met an elleth who he wished to spend eternity with. Oh, he had hoped to, one day, but none of the ladies who lived in his father's court had stirred his interest enough to develop into love. He had certainly been attracted to many of them and had shared a few kisses here and there, and they had been very pleasant. But none fulfilled the longing in his heart that had lain within him since his father had told him of the first time he'd espied Arvellas, his future bride and Legolas' mother.  
  
Thranduil had loved her instantly, and, his father would always smile conspiratorially at his son during this part of the tale, she fell for him as well during that meeting, but pretended indifference. The ardent young prince enjoyed the pursuit immensely, begging for her notice, and plying her with blossoms and poetry. Arvellas would put on a good show of disdain and insult, but could not hide a pleased smile when she thought he wasn't looking. At last, she finally confessed her love for the poor, exhausted Elf, after putting him through the paces of courtship. Thranduil explained to his inquisitive young son that his mother felt she had to be sure of him before she would openly give her heart.  
  
Arvellas told a different story, however. Upon first meeting Thranduil, she had taken an instant dislike to him. He seemed so arrogant and preening, and she felt nothing but distaste for his antics to win her. But one day, when she had once again spurned his suit, she had finally managed to convince him she would never love him. He accepted this, but instead of relief, Arvellas felt regret. He'd looked so sincerely heartbroken and crestfallen before he turned to go, and her heart instantly melted. They wed the following summer.  
  
Their bond had been one of deep, abiding love, and Legolas always knew he would settle for no less than the same for himself. So, he had let all the pretty elf maids of his acquaintance pass him by, regretful that none had captured his heart. Toward the beginning of his second century of life, he still dared to hope that in his travels and dealings with the Elves of other realms that he would chance to meet an elleth who he could love. After a hundred years, such a one did not seem to exist. A few more centuries passed, and his hope faded, so his mind and heart turned to other things.  
  
Therefore, it was incredibly surprising, that at his age, after having run across many admirable and beautiful Elves, and even daughters of Men over his lifespan without blinking so much as an eyelash, he would respond so physically to a fleeting glimpse of a human woman in her underclothes. Legolas was simply baffled, but he managed to cool down his body's ardor, and return to the fireside, determined now more than ever to keep his distance from Buffy for a while.  
  
That was not to be, he realized regretfully, when he sensed Buffy's movement towards the campfire. If she was coming to make amends, he could not simply spring up out of his seat and stride away from her without furthering the breach between them, so he stayed where he was. Trying to keep his mind on something mundane, Legolas picked up his quiver and began to sort through it, looking for any arrows that might be in need of repair.  
  
Buffy's footsteps halted a few feet from the Elf, and he could feel her apprehension and uncertainty. He heard her take a few deep breaths, but he did not look at her. Instead, he waited for her to gather her courage.  
  
She opened her mouth to speak, but the only sound that pierced the quiet night was a long, loud snort and snuffle from Gimli. No one spoke or moved for a moment, and Buffy simply stood there with her mouth agape. Suddenly, she started to giggle, and she thought she saw Legolas bite back a chuckle. Buffy tried to begin once more, but she laughed instead. At that, the Elf's laughter finally broke through his indifferent façade, and he peered up at her, his eyes twinkling.  
  
They laughed together, trying to be quiet, although they both knew that little woke the Dwarf from such a deep slumber. Buffy squatted on the ground, her breath coming in short rasps, as she lost herself over to her mirth. Evidently, she thought, her case of the giggles was contagious, as Legolas began to laugh a little more loudly and freely at her and the situation they were in.  
  
As soon as Buffy caught her breath, she plopped down on the grass. "Oh boy," she sighed, and suddenly it seemed easier to form the words she had taken over an hour to come up with. She looked up at the Elf, whose own laughter was subsiding. "Look, Legolas," she began, not wanting to annoy him with one of her many nicknames for him. "I'm really sorry about earlier. Using your knife without permission for-" she searched for a euphemism, but came up blank, "that. I was just getting desperate, and I didn't stop to think."  
  
Legolas kept his eyes on his work, but arched a brow bemusedly. He was all seriousness and sobriety now that their moment of mirth had passed. "I accept your apology, Buffy. I hope you will forgive me for losing my temper with you. It very rarely happens," he told her sincerely.  
  
"No big," Buffy replied, shrugging. "It made me feel like a five-year-old, but then again, I was acting like one, so we're square."  
  
"We are squares?" Legolas asked dryly.  
  
Buffy chuckled. "I just mean everything's good between us, at least I hope it is."  
  
"Ah," Legolas nodded. "Yes, I understand." A moment passed, while the Elf continued to work quietly, his features carefully schooled.  
  
"So we're good?" Buffy prodded, not able to read the Elf's impassive demeanor. _Honestly,_ she thought, _he's worse than Angel with the cryptic_.  
  
"Yes, we are good." Legolas replied, glancing at her briefly. "What was that strange song you were singing?"  
  
Buffy blinked in surprise at the abrupt change of subject. "Huh?"  
  
"You were singing before. I have never heard any song remotely like that."  
  
"I'm guessing adult contemporary hasn't reached the Middle Earth airwaves yet, huh? Maybe Elves are more into protest songs or folk music." Buffy remarked with a teasing lilt, smirking when Legolas frowned in confusion. _At last,_ she rejoiced internally. _A facial expression!_  
  
Buffy sat back in the grass and lifted her gaze to the stars. "It's a song my mom and I used to sing," she explained, her voice soft. Legolas turned to look at her when he heard the wistfulness in her tone. "I was thinking about it because what happened today sort of reminded me of something that happened when I was five."  
  
"What was that?" A noise startled the Elf, and Legolas looked over his shoulder while Buffy rattled on.  
  
"Well, we have these things in my world, called record players," Buffy winced, thinking how difficult it would be to explain the concept of recorded music to an Elf. She had scratched the hell out of her mother's favorite Barry Manilow album after being told she wasn't allowed to play with the turntable without an adult. She wasn't sure exactly how the recording process worked. Sound waves and frequencies seemed to be more up Willow's alley than hers.  
  
Just as she was about to continue her tale, Legolas slapped his hand over Buffy's mouth without warning, stilling her speech. Buffy's eyes widened in surprise, and she started to pull away and ask what in heck-fire he was doing, when she noticed how still and tense his body had become.  
  
"Mmmph?" asked Buffy, her eyes darting around, looking for any sign of danger.  
  
"Shhh," Legolas urged her, drawing his hand away from her face. His eyes connected with Buffy's and his head gestured almost imperceptibly toward the edge of the forest. Buffy looked past him to see dark figures emerging from the shelter of the trees.  
  
Dunlendings. The man who had attacked Buffy had returned and brought a large party of his brethren with him. Legolas stood slowly, never taking his eyes off the group of twenty or so ragged men. Buffy stood as well, feeling very unnerved by the sudden appearance of these men and moved warily to Gimli's side to wake him, thinking his assistance might be needed. After nudging the Dwarf several times with her foot, Buffy finally managed to rouse him. Sputtering, Gimli sat up rubbing sleep from his eyes.  
  
"There had better be a good reason for this interruption of a most- oh!" Gimli stopped mid-grumble when he saw their visitors. The torches they carried illuminated their dirty faces, and the three warriors could see the Wild Men also carried what looked like a dead deer between two makeshift poles, and several ratty-looking furs.  
  
No one spoke for a long moment. The men all looked very similar, but Buffy recognized the man at the front as the one she had dubbed 'Smelly Hairy Guy' by the way he leered at her, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight. _Okay, this is definitely creepy,_ thought Buffy, mysteriously unable to think of a single quip to diffuse the situation. Finally, Legolas broke the silence.  
  
"What is your business here?" he demanded in an authoritative tone.  
  
An older man with streaks of grey in his mottled hair stepped forward. He gestured to Smelly Hairy Guy as he spoke. "I am Dorn, leader of my clan. My son, Harl wishes to take the woman for a wife."  
  
_Straight and to the point, gotta give 'em that,_ Buffy mused, too dazed by the declaration to fully process its meaning.  
  
Again, silence permeated the group, as Legolas struggled to mask his revulsion. The leader spoke again, his eyes shifting from the Elf to Buffy. "He saw her today, and says she is very strong. She will bear him many strong sons."  
  
"Ew!" Buffy exclaimed, having regained her speaking abilities. Pretty soon, she'd be able to pun, but for now, she could only manage a vehement, "Uh, I don't think so!"  
  
Legolas shot her a pleading glance, signaling her to be quiet. Buffy sensed that he did not want to anger these people, but she was beyond caring. What kinds of people go around bartering for women in this day and age? she wondered before realizing she wasn't exactly sure what day and age she was in at the moment.  
  
Dorn, however, ignored her outburst and continued. "We bring gifts," he gestured for the gift-bearers to lay the furs and the dead deer before the Elf. "Furs, and food. My son lusts mightily for her and will take her this night. We will all drink and celebrate their union, yes?"  
  
Smelly Hairy Guy, or Harl's leer became even skeevier, if it was possible, and Buffy's stomach turned. She looked at Legolas' stoic countenance, and at Gimli's fierce expression and clenched fists and rolled her eyes. _If you want something done, better do it yourself.  
_  
Buffy moved towards the group, and started to speak but Legolas held her back with one arm. "Thank you for your offer, Dorn. But the lady is not for sale or trade."  
  
The clan leader's expression darkened, and his stance became threatening. "You will not accept our gifts?" he growled.  
  
"Actually," Buffy stated archly, "I'm not really looking to get married just now." She shrugged in mock apology. "And kids are just not on the agenda. Thanks all the same though. Bye-bye!" Buffy waggled her fingers at them, earning a look of pure derision from the Wild Men, as well as angry rumblings among them.  
  
"Go on with you, traitors!" Gimli shouted. "We'll have none of your barbarism here!"  
  
Harl stepped forward angrily. "These are our lands, Dwarf!" he shouted. _It speaks,_ Buffy thought bemusedly. "What little we have we protect. We do not fear you, or the Elf! We'll take what we want."  
  
Buffy heard herself make a strange growling sound deep in her throat. "You'd better fear all of us, Lothar," she spat at her so-called suitor. "Especially me." Her eyes flashed with a deadly gleam. "I won't be bought or sold or taken, so you can just take your ratty furs, and dead animal and shove off!"  
  
At this, Harl roared and lunged at Buffy violently, but was intercepted by a suddenly ferocious Elf. "Do not even think to touch her!" Legolas caught him by the shoulders, and threw him backwards into the group of men, knocking a few of them down. "We will depart from these lands since they are yours, but do not try to follow and attack us, for you will surely regret it." He stared down the Wild Men with the strength of the Eldar in his countenance, and they reared back in fear.  
  
"Hey, I was scaring them just fine, Mr. Buttinsky," Buffy grumbled, sulking that the Elf had stolen her thunder.  
  
Legolas ignored her complaint, sensing a new danger nearby. The horses whinnied in fear, rearing up on their hind legs, and the Elf, Gimli and Buffy looked around for the cause, cursing simultaneously when they saw it.  
  
"Durin's Beard!"  
  
"Elbereth!"  
  
"Crap!"


	15. Chapter 15

Sorry for the long wait! I had writer's block, and then I didn't, and then I got it again, all while writing this chapter. Then I got cast in a play, and then I got pregnant! Whew! Busy summer, all around. In any case, I hadn't thought this chapter was really finished until I looked at it again today, and realized I could probably get away with posting it. Hope it satisfies your curiosity, and I hope you'll forgive me for the second cliffhanger! Thanks so much for all your reviews and continued support. I really enjoy reading your input; it makes it all worthwhile! - Rapunzel

Chapter 15 

Legolas, Buffy and Gimli stared in shock at the sight of the fire that set the trees ablaze. Looking for the cause, Legolas spotted one of the Wild Men's torches in the grass, lighting a trail of flame that crawled through the dry brush and dead leaves, and up the roots of the nearest trees. With shame, the Elf realized that his rash action of throwing Harl into his comrades must have caused one of them to loose his hold on his torch. How could he have been so careless? The distress of the forest echoed in his ears, and he was hard pressed not to cover them.

"Quick," cried Gimli to his friends and to the Wild Men. "We must contain this blaze before it spreads!" He and Buffy began to search frantically for any implement among their belongings that might hold a large amount of water from the river.

"Where's the pot I used for the stew last night?" Gimli yelled, searching the ground with panicked eyes.

Buffy, gathering her wits, thought for a moment. "Oh!" she cried. "I-I put it in the saddlebag like you asked, remember?"

"Well, where are the saddlebags?" Gimli demanded, looking around frantically.

"You guys put them on the horses!"

"Well, where-?" Gimli glanced around him, dismayed to see said horses and saddlebags had run for their lives. "Curse those spineless creatures!" he yelled to their retreating backsides. "Afraid of a little fire, are you?"

Legolas, hearing Gimli's infuriated cries snapped out of his regretful ruminations, and looked to the unmoving Dunlendings for assistance. He stopped short in surprise. Their numbers had doubled, and they stood with the fire and the path to the river behind them, forming a long blockade. The flames grew, and the screams of the trees became louder, and Legolas nearly cried out in anguish.

Instead, the Elf cursed under his breath at having not even sensed the arrival of these reinforcements. _They must have been lying in wait,_ he thought. _In case we would not give them what they sought._ He glanced over at the growing blaze, dread clenching his heart. Putting aside his desire to curse them for their obstinacy, he appealed to the Wild Men. "Come, let us put aside our differences for the moment, and work together to save your homes!"

The Dunlendings, to a one, stayed silent and still. They kept their determined stares on the young girl they had come for. They seemed eerily unconcerned about the fire, and Legolas wondered if perhaps it hadn't been his fault after all. Perhaps these men were more cunning than he gave them credit for.

"What have you done?" Legolas demanded in a horrified whisper.

The flames, climbing ever higher, were reflected in the eyes of the Wild Men, giving them a demonic appearance. Buffy and Gimli, who had been digging up piles of dirt to throw on the fire, heard the Elf's question, and joined him.

Harl's face twisted into a malicious grin. "You Elves," he sneered. "You cannot stand to see trees in pain. Saruman knew this well, and he took great delight in destroying what the Elves love so dearly. We learned to take that same delight when we served him so faithfully."

Legolas did not answer, but his eyes flashed and his jaw hardened in anger.

"Move aside, traitors!" Gimli roared, brandishing his axe threateningly.

"What is your problem?" Buffy added her voice to the dispute. She noted the larger number of men they now faced, and frowned in puzzlement. "And where the hell did all these other guys come from?" _Get back to the important stuff, Buffy,_ she told herself, and took up her own axe. "Move, or we'll make you move!" she threatened.

Harl laughed along with his men. "This one," he said, pointing to the angry little blonde, "was promised to us. She belongs to us, and she will be the key to our restoration." A gruff cheer resounded from the crowd at this statement.

"Huh-what?" was Buffy's dumbfounded reply. A sense of foreboding settled over her, but she shook it off and went back to the more urgent matter. "You might wanna worry about the inferno here, buddy. Trust me, I come from the official state of forest fires, and they ain't easy to put out."

Gimli, although he did not fully understand Buffy's declaration, was in perfect agreement. "Think of your people, man! The women and children who still live in these mountains will perish if this fire is left to devour the mountainside!"

"Our clan was nearly wiped out by disease and orc attacks; our women and children are all dead." Dorn spoke once again and gestured to the rag-tag group behind him. "This is all that is left. Saruman told me if we served him, he would bring to us a woman of unequaled strength who would rebuild our numbers."

Harl now leveled Buffy with a hungry glare. "You will be mine. Once you have given me sons, the others may have you. And your strength will guarantee us many children. Children of a strong new race that will one day rule Rohan again!" Another cheer sounded from the men, and they began to advance on the three.

Legolas and Gimli objected loudly to this, but Buffy was once again completely at a loss for words. She stood, gaping at the man who had made this declaration to her. _Is _that_ why I'm here?_ she thought in despair. _Some evil wizard brought me here to be a baby machine for these assholes?_ "Oh, my God," she whispered, her face twisting in disgust as the rage built inside her. Legolas looked at her sharply, sensing the anger within her now burned hotter than the flames that were engulfing the forest.

"No way. No way in _fucking_ hell is that _ever _gonna happen, do you understand me?" Buffy's voice grew from a threatening even tone to a hoarse scream. "I did not die and get brought back to be pulled into this world to be your fucking _whore_!"

Buffy started for the leering Harl, but Legolas held her back not willing to let her go into battle so enraged she might become careless. They were outnumbered, and although he, Gimli and Buffy could certainly handle themselves against such a group, they had to keep their wits about them. He found he had to hold Gimli back as well, for the Dwarf had begun to shout curses and threats in his own language, his axe ready to cleave heads from necks.

"Come on, Laddie, we can take 'em all!" Gimli growled to his comrade-in-arms. "You, me and I daresay the girl could make mincemeat of these ruffians." He shook his fist at the group. "Never say a Dwarf backed down from a bunch of barbaric servants of Saruman the Deceiver!"

Legolas backed his friend's opinion of the former head of the White Council. "Saruman lied to you!" he declared hotly. "He has no power left to him but that of his voice. Gandalf the White stripped him of his title and broke his staff. Saruman is nothing now!"

"You lie, Elf! He promised!" Harl shouted, enraged, and the men crowded closer, drawing weapons that had been concealed in their clothes.

Buffy struggled in Legolas' bruising grip, determined to do some serious damage. She was through with being a puppet; being yanked to and fro by fate and used as a weapon, a tool. This was the final insult. The Powers that Be had fucked with her for the last time.

Legolas deliberated what to do as he restrained his friends and stared down the menacing men. The fire had spread now to at least a dozen trees, and the sounds of their suffering was torturous to the Elf. Gimli eventually allowed himself to be calmed for the moment, but Buffy would not be checked, so Legolas released his hold on the Dwarf's collar and wrapped both arms around the Slayer, holding her close to himself.

"Godamnit! God damn you, Legolas, let me go!" Buffy snarled. She felt completely feral, like the First Slayer in her dreams. Such was her rage that all rational thought left her, and what remained was just the Slayer. She kicked at the Elf, and fought his grasp, but he held her fast.

Legolas felt the searing heat of the fire, and his mind and heart were awhirl with the fury of the girl in his arms and his own anguish. He was at a loss as to what to do. Gimli was holding firm his battle stance, even as the band of forty threatened to attack unless they gave up the girl. Should they flee? he wondered. Never had he run from battle. He had not done so at the siege of Helm's Deep, when victory was so unlikely. But there he had been calm and confident in the knowledge of his task, and there were many others who fought beside him. Not to mention the timely arrival of –

The Elf's thoughts were abruptly cut off by a wonderful and terrible sound. Echoing through the night was a call, deep and foreboding. It was answered by other voices, a dozen, at least; ancient and powerful. Legolas' heart lifted. The Ents were coming. They had seen the fire.

Legolas turned to his foes with a smile. Their hostile demeanor had changed to one of unease and wariness. They looked about them for the source of the howls that assaulted their ears.

The calls multiplied, and the Elf felt the smallest vibration in the ground. With his enhanced sight, he could see the Ents leagues away, gathering for another march. He and Gimli exchanged a knowing glance even as Legolas continued to struggle to keep his hold on Buffy.

"They are coming," he told the confused and fearful men. "They are coming, and they will make short work of this fire, and of you. They brought down the might of Isengard, so do not think you will be any challenge for them."

Harl and Dorn's eyes widened in comprehension, but they remained grimly determined. Dorn drew a rusty blade from his belt. "Then you shall be with us to receive their wrath, Elf!" he cried and thrusting the blade in the air, he led his men in the charge.

The battle began. Buffy broke free of Legolas' hold just as the Wild Men sprang at them. She swung her fists with deadly accuracy as they rushed her. Right and left, men fell at her feet, injured. Buffy did not spare any one of them a thought. Her primal self was in charge, fueled and blinded by her wrath.

Dorn and Harl had made straight for Buffy, but their rushing clansmen blocked their path. Buffy was immediately surrounded, and she drove the butt of the axe's handle into the stomach of the man behind her, causing him to collapse. She elbowed another in the face, breaking his nose. A dirt-streaked arm wrapped around her waist, attempting to lift her, but she used the leverage to kick out, sending her foot into the chin of the man in front of her.

Gaining her feet again, she bent forward, and flipped her captor over her head and to the ground. She blocked and ducked, somersaulted and whirled, lost in the rhythm of the fight. She was vaguely aware of her two companions dealing and receiving their own blows, but she was too busy to be of any help to them.

The fire raged, and the ground trembled. The Ents were gathered and headed for them. Their war song rose up above the din of the battle.

Some of the Dunlendings, seeing how easily the woman, Elf and Dwarf took their brothers down, turned tail and fled into the night. Others, who knew this was the last chance for their people to regain what they thought rightfully theirs, stubbornly stayed on to fight.

An enraged Harl, seeing his clan's numbers dwindling, broke through the melee, and leapt upon Buffy, knocking her flat. The air left her lungs, and she lay motionless for a few moments; enough for Harl to gain the advantage.

"You will be mine!" Harl's teeth were bared and spittle formed on his cracked lips, as he pressed his knee into her stomach, and began to pull at her jeans. The strange clothing confounded him, however, and his confusion gave Buffy time to recover her breath, though the pressure on her diaphragm was making it difficult.

Swiftly, Buffy executed a vicious head butt, and Harl howled in pain, as his head flew backwards, and he loosened his grip on her. She succeeded in dislodging his knee, but that caused his body to fall flat on top of hers, and she gripped his upper arms in preparation to flip him over, and reverse their positions.

What she didn't realize, however, was that when Harl had first knocked her down, her foot became lodged in a shallow hole in the ground, and her struggles had wedged it deeper until it was trapped by a heavy rock in the soil. When she began to execute the hip throw, using her feet for leverage, she heard a crack followed by blinding pain in her right ankle.

Buffy screamed, and in her agony, lost the advantage. Harl grinned through the fading pain in his head from her blow, and pinned his forearm against her throat, cutting off her air almost completely. He continued his task of removing her clothing, determined to dominate her, and make her his.

Buffy fought down her pain and the blackness that the loss of air threatened, and reached up to yank a clump of matted hair from Harl's scalp. He jerked back again, and shrieked and the pressure on her throat was released. Bringing her uninjured foot between them she positioned it against his abdomen, and pushed with every bit of her strength.

Harl flew up off of her, and backwards, striking his back against a tree and landing beyond her sight in the brush. Buffy sat up, pulling her throbbing foot from the ground as carefully as she could. A sharp cracking noise brought Buffy's head up, and her eyes widened at a gruesome sight.

Her attacker had landed in a blazing patch of grass under a burning tree.


	16. Chapter 16

At last, an update! Sorry for the long wait. Real life is happening, and many, many decisions lie before me before my baby arrives. She's due in March, so I have resolved to finish this story before then! No way I'm gonna have time to write with a newborn baby around. Hope you like the chapter, and thanks for waiting. Rapunzel

Chapter 16 

Ever since returning from death, Buffy had constantly felt detached from the world. It disturbed her that her emotions could not be easily brought to the surface, and she wondered where that part of her had gone. Coming to this dimension had begun to relight the fire that was missing, and it had been some time since the apathy had completely consumed her. Now, as she watched the Wild Man burn, it returned, full force. The fire was no longer within her. It burned all around her, but she was freezing.

_Funny, _she thought to herself. _The guy's unconscious, trapped beneath a heavy, burning branch. Aren't I supposed to try and help him, no matter how evil he is? He's human, after all. But I can't seem to make myself care._

Voices from a memory echoed in her mind at this last thought, but they didn't bring the chills of guilt and shame that they usually carried:

"_Faith, you don't get it. You killed a man."_

"_No, _you_ don't get it. I don't care."_

A strangled roar broke through her thoughts, and her eyes shifted to see the father of her attacker running towards her in a frenzy, his weapon raised. Buffy closed her eyes and readied herself to welcome death, but Dorn's sword never reached her neck. His arm was cleaved off with an axe, and a white-handled blade was suddenly embedded in his heart.

Even as she watched him bleed his life out onto the ground, Buffy did not stir. The only thing she could manage to feel was the throbbing in her ankle. She concentrated on that, holding onto the pain that reminded her she was still alive.

Gimli and Legolas stepped into her line of vision, concern written on their faces. The Elf knelt down beside her and touched her cheek.

"We must go, Buffy," he told her softly. When she did not respond, he gently lifted her up in his arms and stood. The horses were found a short while later, answering the Elf's call. All three were silent as they mounted and rode away from the fire, turning north and out of Dunland.

The three were soon camped in a small patch of woods several miles away from the fire. The horizon glowed with tints of pink and orange and Legolas stood in a clearing, watching the Ents approaching the still-burning forest. They would have the fire out by the time morning had broken, but not quickly enough for the trees already being engulfed by the blaze. The Elf silently grieved for their loss.

Turning and walking back to their camp, he encountered Gimli, who was staring thoughtfully in the Slayer's direction. She was seated on a rock in front of the campfire, looking into it intently, as if searching for answers. They had placed her thus after arriving, when she made no move to dismount from the horse. She had not responded to any questions they asked, and had not protested when Legolas wrapped her injured ankle a little too tightly. Gimli had settled a blanket around her shivering shoulders, and they left her in peace as they set up camp.

He sought their connection, trying to sense what she was feeling, but strangely he could not find anything. Trying once more, he suddenly shuddered, and coldness settled over him. Shaking off this disturbing sensation, Legolas reasoned that she must have inadvertently blocked him out.

Not for the first time since he'd met her, Legolas wondered what went on in that mind of hers. She was a seasoned warrior, by her accounts, and a battle such as this one should not leave her so dazed.

Sighing, he recalled a rare moment when she had talked about her Slaying duties. Buffy mentioned that she did not kill her own kind. Demons were the only items on her Slay menu, she had quipped, and she took great care not to include humans.

Legolas thought of the tales of the sons of Fëanor, and the kin-slayings that took place during the quest to retrieve the Simarils. He could not imagine being able to live with himself if he had taken part in such a betrayal of his kind. This situation was very different, however, and he hoped Buffy would come to terms with that in time. He looked to Gimli, a question as to what to do next on his lips, but the Dwarf spoke first.

"We are too close to the Misty Mountains to avoid meeting more than a few goblins, you know. Perhaps we should take another path if she is going to be like this after every battle." Gimli said, his gruff demeanor concealing his worry for the girl.

Legolas' mouth quirked at this. "I do not think she will feel remorse after killing goblins, Friend."

"Remorse?" Gimli harrumphed. "Those ruffians were asking for a swift axe in the gut. No mercy can be spared on those who are bent on our destruction."

"I agree, Gimli, but I think Buffy-"

"I can totally hear you guys talking about me, you know," came the unexpected voice of the girl in question. "You might as well come over here and do it where it's warm."

Relieved to hear her speak, albeit sardonically, the two joined her at the campfire. "You know that had you shown restraint, Buffy, you would now be in their hands," Gimli offered. He had seen the man called Harl leap upon her, and he and Legolas had fought their way over to her in time to stop Dorn from separating her head from her neck.

"Do not dwell in regret for doing what you had to in order to survive," said the Elf.

"Regret?" Buffy echoed, looking Legolas dead in the eye. "That's the stupid thing, Legolas. I don't feel regret. I don't feel anything about killing a man. Years ago I might have, but not now. I've changed."

Legolas frowned, confused by her cold response. "What is different?" he asked softly.

Buffy turned her face back to the fire before answering. "I know that I did what I had to. That bastard tried to-" she cut herself off, unable to say the word. "I did what I had to in order to protect my sister last year, too. I had no choice. At the time, I didn't have the energy to waste on feeling regret for the men who wanted to kill her. They were human, and they believed they were right. I couldn't convince them otherwise, and I couldn't let them hurt her. It was war." She looked back at Legolas, her eyes blank.

"That's what a Slayer is. A killer. A war machine. That's what I've become. I know that now. I'm just a dead shell." She stood, the blanket slipping from her shoulders, and limped away from the warmth of her companions and the campfire, seeking cold solitude.

Legolas watched her go, and then looked to Gimli, in search of some comprehension in his friend's eyes, but the Dwarf only shook his head sadly. He joined his friend in silent contemplation, but found that his gaze was compulsively drifting over to the perplexing young woman standing alone in the clearing.

"I do not understand, Gimli. How can she believe what she says?" he whispered.

Gimli shrugged helplessly. "The girl has hardly spoken a word of sense since we met her," he jibed. "This should hardly come as a surprise, I suppose." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Though I imagine that she must also be thinking that her purpose in our world has been explained to her, and she accepts it as truth. That would make anybody doubt their reason for being."

"What?" Legolas almost shouted, and then lowered his voice. "That is utter nonsense. Did she not hear me when I said-"

"I doubt she heard much of anything after the Wild Men made their claim, lad." Gimli said, looking at Legolas with gentle censure. "She was too angry to listen."

"True," Legolas replied. "We can reassure her, I hope." Gimli made a small noise of agreement, drew his pipe from a pocket, and went through the motions of packing it and then lighting the weed. Legolas grimaced at the scent of the smoke, but said nothing. They sat together in silence for a long while, and the Elf simply watched the sky change colors.

As the sun broke over the horizon, Legolas felt a sudden and strange pull at his heart. He blinked in surprise and a lump formed in his throat. Pain seared his being; a pain he had not experienced for a long time, but one that brought with it a great sense of loss. His hands clenched into fists, and his whole body tensed as he fought back the despair that threatened to engulf him. His vision swam, and a roaring in his ears blocked out all sound but that of the cry he let loose in the quiet of the woods.

Awakening with a startled gasp, Legolas looked around shakily. Had he drifted into a dream? No echo remained of his scream, and the regular song of the trees gave no sign that it had been disturbed.

Gimil, however was staring at him in puzzlement, but before his friend could ask what was wrong, Legolas' Elven hearing picked up a tiny noise coming from the clearing where Buffy stood. Her own heart was breaking with grief, and the small sniffles told him that she was struggling to stop herself from crying.

Understanding flooded Legolas' mind. The dam on Buffy's emotions was broken, and the result of that break had sent him reeling. He thought perhaps he should leave her be and take some time for himself to recover from that onslaught, but the chance was too great that she might at last be able to confide in him.

Gimli seemed to sense what his friend was thinking, and gave him a gentle nudge. "Go to her, lad," he advised. "Perhaps she will tell you." Gimli got up and walked to his pony to rummage through their packs for a morning meal. "I'll have breakfast ready when you get back," he said, waving the Elf on his way.

Legolas smiled at the friend of his heart and stood to make his way over to Buffy, bringing her discarded blanket along. She was leaning against a great oak tree, unable to stand comfortably with her injured ankle. Her hand covered her mouth, and he listened to her stifled sobs for a little before speaking.

"A dead shell you are not, Buffy Summers," he told her gently. She started, but did not turn around. "Else you would not grieve so, as you do now."

"Maybe not," she conceded, shrugging. She still did not turn, attempting to put off the Elf.

Legolas would not be put off, and he walked around to stand in front of her. "Definitely not," he corrected her. "Do not tell yourself you are a machine. Your tears tell me that cannot be possible." He laughed softly, but not unkindly, thinking of what he had learned of her wealth of emotion from their bond. "I know what depth of-"

"I wished you'd let him kill me," she whispered, looking at the ground.

Stunned, Legolas could only reply, "What?"

"Just before you came over," she squeezed her eyes shut, letting loose a few tears. "That's why I'm crying. Or making a pathetic attempt not to."

Paling, Legolas spoke haltingly. "Why would you wish for that? How can you want to throw away the gift that is life?"

A loud bark of mirthless laughter escaped Buffy's throat at his question. She shook her head and looked upward before bringing her gaze to meet the Elf's. "Life is a gift?" she replied, her voice despondent. "Not for me, Legolas. Death is _my_ gift. I know that first hand. I make it with my hands every day, and I know where it leads to. I took my gift, I did what I had to, and then I was done!" Buffy turned her face away from him and whispered bitterly, "And then it was taken from me."

Pieces of the mysterious puzzle that was Buffy's past began to fit themselves together in Legolas' mind. It was suddenly clear that Buffy had told him her secret indirectly several times. He recalled her utterance during one of her nightmares the week before:

"_They left me in the ground. They buried me and then they left me there."_

Legolas remembered how she had also slipped that night at Isengard, saying that her friends would think she was dead again. And then the voice he had heard when he was awakening Buffy from her unnatural slumber had whispered:

"_Death has not claimed you yet again."_

He had wondered about that at the time, but he did not think it could be possible. But right before the battle with the Dunlendings, she had let slip once more. In her fury, she had told them she had not come back to life in order to fulfill their sordid needs. It had barely registered with him at the time, but now…

"You died," he stated, not needing her affirmation.

Buffy was silent for a long time. She slid down to the ground, to sit at the tree's roots. "Tell him what he's won, Bob," she quipped humorlessly.

Her attempt to lighten this disclosure was lost on Legolas and he admonished her gently. "Do not pull away from me, Buffy. I am not the cause of your grief. You had many chances to confide in me or Gimli, but you chose not to. Did you wish to leave us subtle clues until we could puzzle it out? That is what you have done, so no matter how closely you guarded your secrets, some part of you desperately wanted to reveal it."

Buffy shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the Elf. What had happened to her wasn't his fault, and he didn't deserve her sarcasm, but she hated to be analyzed. Wanting the delving into the depths of her soul to end, she turned from him, muttering, "Who died and made you Freud?"

Legolas ignored her barb and kneeled down next to her, his face alight with wonder. "I do not understand, Buffy. How did this happen? Sometimes Elves are reborn, and Gandalf the Grey came back to us after his death to fulfill his purpose. I did not think it was possible for Men, but apparently you were granted this boon to live out your life after dying so young. It is miraculous!"

At this, Buffy turned to stare at Legolas incredulously. "Miraculous? You know, that's what everyone said when I came back. I'm so sick of that word. There is _nothing_ miraculous about waking up six feet under the ground, nailed shut in a coffin, and having to scratch and claw your way to the surface, gasping for air!"

Legolas flushed, chastened by this revelation and cursed himself for a fool as he remembered how she thrashed about during her nightmares. She had struggled as if trapped somewhere, and clawed at an invisible wall, screaming that she could not breathe. _Who would do such an unspeakable thing?_ he wondered in horror. He could not imagine the confusion and fear she must have felt.

"Oh, Buffy," he breathed, his compassion for her apparent on every feature. He reached out a hand to her shoulder. Buffy flinched, but he was determined not to let her shy away from his offer of comfort. Using their bond, he summoned all the kindness and understanding he possessed within his being and spoke to her heart.

"_Leithio, Buffy. Anno dhâf enni le anno hîdh. Trenaro naeg hen ah nín. Im mellon nín."_

Buffy's body slumped in surrender, and the tears gave way. Legolas caught her as she propelled herself forward and he held her to his chest. His hands stroked her hair, and he whispered to her soothingly as she wept.

They sat like this for a long while, the Elf consoling the Slayer. Buffy's tears stained her face and Legolas' tunic as she let go of everything she had been holding in for so long. She shivered, and Legolas remembered the blanket, and wrapped it around her small frame.

"I can't get warm, I'm so cold," Buffy whispered between sobs. "I can't get warm."

Legolas held her closer, rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm her. Eventually, her sobs subsided, and although the Elf had shared in her sorrow, he was happy to have been the vessel into which she poured her grief. He could tell that her heart was a little lighter for having done so, although it would be quite some time before it would begin to heal.

Finally, Buffy sat up shakily, pulling the blanket tighter around her, and used her shoulder to wipe the remnants of her tears from her face.

"Who did this to you?"

At this question, Buffy bowed her head to the ground and her answer was barely audible. "My friends," she heard Legolas' sharp intake of breath. "I know. But they thought- they were trying to save me."

"From being at peace?"

Buffy looked up sharply. Her eyes widened in surprise. "How could you know I was at peace?"

Legolas inched closer, and placed his hand on her cheek. "How could I think anything else?" When she continued to stare at him in amazement, he sighed. "Buffy, I know little of where the souls of Men go after death, but I cannot fathom that a warrior of the light such as yourself would not be rewarded with rest." His hand slid to her shoulder, and he held her firmly. "Why could your friends not realize this?"

Buffy hesitated before replying. "It's- hard to explain." She took a deep breath, and attempted to give him the condensed version of events. "There was this Hell God, and she wanted to return to her home, and she had to use my sister's blood to do it," Pausing, she caught Legolas' eye, and though he did not seem to understand, he nodded for her to continue.

"My sister wasn't really my sister, she was this Key thing that opened portals, but these monks- do you have monks here?" At the shake of his head, she shrugged and rambled on. "They're these guys who chant a lot and wear robes and have really bad haircuts…but anyway, they were hiding the Key, and they decided to make it human so I could protect it, and we all had these memories of my sister, but they were fake…uh, well long story short, I had to jump into the portal to close it, and-" she paused, taking in the Elf's perplexed expression. "You're not following any of this, are you?"

A small smile spread across her features, and Legolas followed suit. They chuckled softly together for a moment, and the Elf loosed his grip on her shoulders to clasp her hands in his own.

"It does not matter if I do not know all the details," Legolas told her solemnly. "I cannot understand how your friends would think such a thing was right to do, no less how they had the power to do it." He stopped her before she could offer another explanation. "Enough for today," he said, squeezing her hands. "Tell us your story tomorrow if you wish. I am just glad to finally know what is hurting you so."

"I think I'm glad I told you," Buffy replied, looking earnestly into his eyes. "That secret was really eating away at me." She looked down, and shook her head. "I didn't tell them what they had done. I let them think they had saved me." A few new tears spilled out of her eyes, and splashed onto the blanket.

Legolas nodded. "That is understandable. And noble. But perhaps you do more harm in letting them think they had done right by you. You should tell them once you get back home."

Buffy glanced up at him and winced. "Who knows if that's even possible?" she asked wryly. Taking her hands from his, she wiped at her tearstained face. "Since that Saran Wrap guy brought me here, maybe he should put me back. After we beat him up a whole lot."

Legolas was puzzled as to whom she was referring for a moment and then laughed out loud. "Saruman," he corrected, shaking his head at her. "And he did not bring you here. He could not have."

Buffy's eyes became somewhat brighter at this possibility that the Wild Men were wrong. "Really?"

"Yes," Legolas replied. "He has no power to do so. I saw for myself when Gandalf cast him from the Order and broke his staff. That was some time ago. Now he can only use his voice to persuade others to do his will."

"Then how did he know about 'a woman of unequaled strength, blahbitty, blah blah'?" Buffy inquired, her brows drawn in confusion.

Legolas shrugged, gladdened that she could now be so glib about it. Surely that meant her spirits were lifting even more. "He may have foreseen your arrival somehow, and used it to tempt the Wild Men into fighting for him," he suggested. "Or-"

"Or he may be just a big, fat, incredibly creative liar and my coming here is a coincidence," Buffy finished sardonically.

"Exactly," Legolas said, laughing again. "You do not still believe what they said now, do you?"

"Still shaken up by it a little, but yeah, it's starting to dawn on me how bad guys don't always tell the truth," she responded.

"Good," the Elf replied wholeheartedly. He saw her yawn, and stood, helping her to rise, and began to lead her back to camp.

"Come," he said. "You are exhausted."

Buffy nodded. "Sleepy time," she sing-songed while falling into step with the Elf. "Ow! Yeouch!" She stopped suddenly, having forgotten about her injury, and hopped on her other foot.

Legolas steadied her, concerned. "Shall I carry you?" he offered earnestly.

Buffy paused for an instant, ready to refuse his offer, and then shrugged. "Yeah, sure, why not? It's not everyday I get carried away by a prince." With quiet laughter, he scooped her up in his arms and brought her back to camp.

Release, Buffy. Give permission to me to give you peace. Recount this pain with me. I (am) your friend.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

_Let Lethe's Bramble do its chore.  
Purge our minds of memories grim; of pains from recent slights and sins.  
When the fire goes out, when the crystal turns black, the spell will be cast._

_Tabula Rasa, Tabula Rasa, Tabula Rasa._

Tara tapped her fingers anxiously on the research table, her eyes repeatedly drawn to the door of The Magic Box. Blowing out a breath, she chided herself for the umpteenth time for leaving the house without Willow.

A mandatory, first-thing-in-the-morning Scooby meeting had been called by Giles the night before. She and Dawn had been ready to go on time, but Willow was dawdling in the shower. The redheaded witch was still in a towel when they had called up to her, and she cheerfully insisted that they go ahead without her, and she would catch up.

Tara supposed that it was Willow's upbeat demeanor that was bothering her. After her girlfriend's abject despair and regret over her actions regarding Buffy, this sudden turnaround seemed odd. She hated to be suspicious of the woman she loved, but it set off an alarm in her mind.

With good reason, she mused. Willow's obsession with advancing her magical strength and skills over the summer should have tipped them all off that she was building toward doing something huge. Buffy's death had sent them reeling, but as time went on, they had all begun to accept the finality of it, except for Willow. Time did not make things easier for her, and she had been speaking more and more about how wrong the whole situation was. Buffy wasn't supposed to die, she'd said, and before they knew what was happening, they'd all agreed to try and bring her back to life.

Wincing guiltily, Tara supposed that wasn't quite true. They'd all been more than willing to believe in what Willow was saying and excuse themselves for defying the natural order. The hardship of seeing Dawn suffer, and the increasing activity on the Hellmouth had been wearing on the Scooby gang, and with Willow working on their doubts and concerns, they gave in all too easily. That weakness had brought them to this. If they'd left well enough alone, Buffy would still be at peace, and their consciences would be clear. Even if they'd probably all be dead people with clear consciences.

Hearing the bell on the shop door jingle, Tara let out a sigh of relief. Willow and Xander entered together, chatting amiably. Willow was wearing Xander's windbreaker, her hands in her pants' pockets, and her manner easy and bordering on the "top of the world lookin' down on creation". Something was definitely up, Tara thought, her mood darkening again.

"Why the frowny face?" Dawn's soft inquiry startled Tara out of her suspicious thoughts.

"Huh? Oh, um nothing. Just thinking of an essay I have to write for Art Appreciation class." Tara covered her uneasiness with a reassuring grin.

"Must be a doozy." Dawn replied. Tara nodded absentmindedly, her attention back on Willow. "You don't have to lie to me, you know. I know you're worried about Willow."

Once again startled, Tara turned back to Dawn with wide eyes, a denial on her lips. Seeing Dawn's expression, she thought better of it, and smiled ruefully.

"Sorry, Dawnie. You're right. I-I am worried." Tara realized then that hiding the truth from Dawn was not helpful to the girl. She was young, but she was perceptive, and she knew when things weren't right. During her own mother's illness, Tara had been kept in the dark about what was going on, and she'd resented it deeply. She grasped Dawn's hand in hers, and told her how glad she was that Dawn was now being included in all Scooby meetings.

"Well, it does concern me, doesn't it? After all, I'm the one who gets sent to a foster home if -"

"Don't think about it," Tara interjected, wanting to steer clear of morbid 'what-if's'. The whole situation was bad enough without everyone becoming immersed in morose speculation.

Giles' entrance into the main room put a stop to all side discussions in any case. Placing three large, well-worn tomes and some papers onto the table, he glanced toward where Xander, Anya and Willow stood talking, and gestured for them to take a seat.

"So what're we gonna do?" Xander fidgeted uneasily as he looked around the table where his friends sat in equal apprehension.

No one spoke for a long moment. They all looked to Giles for an answer, but he was lost in thought, cleaning his glasses compulsively. He had called this meeting to discuss their options regarding Buffy. For one thing, it would soon become apparent to the authorities that Dawn's legal guardian was missing, and they no longer had the Buffybot to hold them off.

Another dilemma was how to go about searching for Buffy and what to do if they found her location. Now that they knew she had been in a heavenly dimension, the possibility that she been taken back there was considered by all to be the most likely, but no one could be sure. The fact that her body was nowhere to be found contradicted that theory somewhat, and the more they talked about it, the more they went around in circles.

Replacing his spectacles on the bridge of his nose, Giles began to update the gang on his actions over the past few days.

"After much thought and some in depth research, I've realized that our resources are rather limited here," Giles began to pace, his brow puckered in what everyone called his ''Deep Thought' face. "So I decided to bring in reinforcements."

"Not the Council!" Willow objected in alarm. At a stern look from Giles, she realized how loud she'd shouted and softened her tone sheepishly. "I mean, not the Council, right?"

"Yeah, you remember what happened the last time those guys were here," Xander piped up. "Bunch of tea drinking, tweed wearing, snooty-ass-"

"As I was saying," the now perturbed Watcher continued. "I decided to bring in reinforcements. Namely Angel and his team." He let that information settle over the group before going on.

"What does Angel have that we don't?" Xander scoffed, his voice petulant. He wanted to find Buffy as much as everyone else, but he wasn't thrilled at the idea of spending large amounts of time around the Brooding One. He cocked an eyebrow at Giles. "I mean, have we looked through every single book?"

"We have a great many books that talk about a vast deal of subjects, Xander. Some of them hint to a solution to our problem. But this town has only a small number of people with whom we might consult and that puts us at a disadvantage." He cast a reassuring glance at his listeners. "And no, we will not be contacting the Council regarding this issue. I think it would be unwise."

"So since Angel's in the Big City, I guess he has more than enough contacts to pick from, or beat up for information, unlike us small town folk," Xander quipped. "All we have is Willy."

"And Wesley works with Angel, doesn't he," Willow stated. "He's probably got lots of info too, and the more the merrier, I guess."

"As long as he sticks with the book stuff, he's useful," Xander said with a smirk. "Not so much with the fightin' that Wes."

"Actually, Cordelia's said that he's toughened up a lot," Willow contradicted. "He's pretty handy in a fight and with the magic too."

"Well, if _Cordy _says so," snipped the aforementioned girl's ex. "She was drooling all over that guy." He took on a mock girlish tone saying, "Ooh, Wesley, you're _sooo_ sexy with your sissy English accent, and your glasses-" he stopped abruptly, catching Giles' withering look, and flushed. "I don't mean to imply _you're_ a sissy, G-Man-"

"'Course not," Giles shook his head and tried to get back on the subject, but was cut off by an irritated Anya.

"Why are you talking like you're jealous of this Wesley person and Cordelia? You're engaged to me! We're getting married, and if you're not ready for that because you're still hung up on that cheerleader-"

Xander cursed himself for bringing up the distant travails of his love life, and consoled his fiancée. "Ahn, honey, I'm not."

"You're not ready?" Anya cried in distress, standing up and clenching her fists. "I knew it! I _knew_ you just proposed to me because you thought the world was ending, I-"

"Ahn!" Xander interjected forcefully, and stood as well, taking the ex-demon's fisted hands in his own. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" she demanded, her eyes tearing.

Anya would have to wait until much later to find out however, since an angry voice was breaking through their argument.

"Can we please return to the subject at hand, and save the pre-marital squabbles for later?" Giles shouted, quite at the end of his patience. He took in the couple's apologetic expressions, and waited for them to sit back down. "Thank you."

"As I was saying," Giles continued. "Angel is very eager to help and Wesley does indeed have many resources to pull from, so it seems quite logical to take the opportunity to utilize their skills."

"Have they come up with anything yet?" Tara asked.

"As it turns out they may have a lead. There's a portal that leads to the lair of a being named Dinza. She is one of the Eleusian Mysteries, the dark demi-goddess of the lost."

"A god?" asked Willow dubiously. "Not to mention a dark one? We had one of those last year, remember?"

"Yes, well she is quite dangerous "

"I'll say," Anya interjected under her breath.

"Do you know her then?" Giles looked to the ex-demon, hopefully.

Anya shrugged. "I know _of_ her. I couldn't exactly meet up with her, since I've never been dead."

"And that's relevant because…" Xander prompted.

Giles provided the explanation. "Er, right. Only the dead may enter her presence." Picking up a sheaf of papers, he shuffled through them until he found what he was looking for. Scrutinizing the picture of the dark goddess he continued. "As I said, she's a dangerous being, not to mention rather, um, well-"

"The word you're looking for is 'fugly'" Anya offered.

"What's fugly mean?" Dawn innocently asked Anya

"It's a combination of -"

"Yes, thank you." Giles quickly interrupted this exchange. "Here, Wesley faxed this information over." Giles placed the paper on the table. Everyone leaned forward to look at the depiction of a winged creature squatting in a shallow pool. Her tattered wings looked as if they had seen better days, much like the inside of an old umbrella someone had flushed down the toilet. Ten times. Sagging, naked breasts hung like tubes and she was sadly lacking in the bodily hygiene department. Strings of goo stretched between her withered appendages, and her face could have stopped time, let alone a clock.

"Ewww," Dawn's mouth twisted in revulsion, but she stared at the picture, fascinated by the ghastly drawing. "I guess I know what fugly means now, huh?" Dawn stated, anticipating corroboration. After a few beats of silence she prodded Xander with her elbow. "So really, what does it mean?"

"And I could have lived a long, happy life without seeing that particular image which is now burned into my brain." Xander declared, pushing the picture away. "Yeesh, at least Glory was easy on the eyes."

"Ick, Xander!" Willow looked at her childhood friend in disgust. "You thought she was attractive? Don't you have any standards anymore?"

"Hey!" came Anya's predictable response.

"So will she be able to tell Angel where Buffy is?" Ever the peacemaker, Tara steered the conversation back to the subject at hand.

"No, actually. And it's rather doubtful that she'll tell him anything at all unless she wishes to."

"And this is what Angel's team came up with?" Xander cried incredulously. "This is our only lead? Some really, really-" he paused, at a loss for words.

"Fugly," Anya interjected.

"Fugly goddess, who may or may not spill the beans? There's gotta be something else we're not thinking of."

"Guys, what's fugly?" Dawn exclaimed, pounding her fist on the table in exasperation.

"_Demi_-goddess, remember?" Willow corrected. At Xander's shrug she continued "Demi means half, so she's half goddess, half…" She glanced at the drawing again and frowned. "Ick."

"Trust me, if there were any other leads we would be taking them." Giles interrupted, trying to keep his irritation at all these tangents under control. "Angel is putting himself in great danger by approaching her." Giles pulled out the research notes Wesley had scribbled. "She can tell us where to look. But she's very untrustworthy. She could trap him in her lair for eternity if she chooses."

"And do what with him exactly?" Xander queried, his expression puzzled. Everyone but Dawn turned to look at him with raised brows. The carpenter grimaced as the obvious dawned on him and he raised his hand. "May I please be excused so that I may vomit my guts out?"

"Can we get back to Buffy?" Dawn cried in frustration. "You guys keep getting off the subject, and it's driving me nuts!" She stopped ranting when she saw everyone staring at her in various shades of pity. "I just want to find my sister," she added bleakly, and then her nostrils flared in determination. "And for the last time I wanna know what fugly means!"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Giles shook his head. "Dawn, it hardly matters-"

The door to the shop banged open and shut, admitting a figure whose body was smoking all over from sun exposure. "Fucking bloody hell!" shouted the incongruous personage.

Everyone stared at Spike in absolute astonishment. Clad practically head to toe in a tweed suit, accessorized with a hat with ear flaps stood the normally leather-clad vampire.

"Spike?" Giles looked more taken aback than anyone.

"Holy Moly!" came from Anya.

"You need to give me asylum," Spike declared to the group.

"I'll say," Xander muttered.

"No need to get cute." Spike headed to the counter, removing his preposterous hat. "It's a disguise. Happens there's a bloke I'd rather not see just now."

As the conversation about Spike's predicament commenced, Anya leaned toward Dawn and whispered, "Dawn, think of the first word Spike said when he came in here."

Frowning, Dawn whispered back, "Why?"

"I'm trying to help you solve your word mystery without being too crass," Anya replied with a roll of her eyes. "I'm not supposed to corrupt you. Too much."

Dawn thought for a moment. "Um… 'you'?"

"No before that."

"Uhh…oh! It was…that word I'm not supposed to say!"

"One of many, I'm sure. Now, what do you think of that suit?"

Dawn stared flabbergasted at the formerly cool vampire she'd crushed on last year and uttered, "It's ugly."

"Now put it all together," Anya prompted, sounding like a naughty Mr. Rogers.

A light bulb went on over Dawn's head after a moment or two, and she grinned wickedly. "Thanks, Anya. Now I have a new word to describe Katie Beman's fashion sense at school tomorrow."

"I do what I can to help." Anya chirped happily, and then rejoined the ensuing discussion.

If Tara had been paying attention, she would have put a stop to Anya's hints, but at the moment she was once again preoccupied with her girlfriend's behavior. Willow, whose hands had been her pants pockets when she entered the store, was once again reaching for something hidden away in one of them. She surreptitiously removed a small object which she enclosed in her fist. She was so intent on this action, that she didn't seem to notice she was being observed.

Shifting her seat a little, Tara pretended to be listen to the dialogue taking place between Giles, Spike and Xander regarding their only course of action in finding Buffy. She leaned back in her chair since Willow's hand was now under the table. By lowering her head a little and pretending to roll her neck as if to massage it, she could peer at the goings-on.

Willow's fist opened up, and the witch was taking measures much the same as Tara's in order to peek at the object enclosed in it. It looked like a rock, Tara thought, a practically black rock. She squinted. No, it was a crystal, Tara realized, and drew a sharp intake of breath when it suddenly glowed green. Willow looked up at her unexpectedly, her eyes wide and guilty, and Tara surmised her gasp must have been louder than she thought.

Not willing to acknowledge she was caught, Willow quickly concealed the crystal in her jacket pocket, and got up to go over to the counter. Tara drew breath to speak, but was prevented by Xander who was approaching Willow at the same moment.

"I mean, Will, if she's not in this dimension like Wesley thinks, isn't there a location spell you can do?" He turned to face the group. "Anything's gotta be better than this Dinza chick."

"Sounds like you're worried about the poof," Spike jibed before Willow could answer. "Always thought you had a tender spot for him."

"Shut up, Spike!" Xander threw at the vampire. "And could you _be_ any more stupid in that getup?"

"Is that the best you can do? You're really off your game these days, boy. Lack of action in the love department I'd guess."

"Oh, please if sexual frustration had a face, it'd be your ugly mug." Xander shot back. "Between us two, who hasn't gotten any in, I don't know, three years?"

"If we could dispense with the trading of insults please?" Giles' voice sternly cut through the heated exchange, but the two continued to argue. He sank down onto the bench next to Anya, quite done in by all the noise, and cradled his aching head in his hands. Tara attempted to question Willow once more, but Anya chimed in, defending Spike's 'mug', arguing against the adjective 'ugly', as well as pointing out that she could keep her man very satisfied, thank you very much.

Back on Revello Drive, unbeknownst to any of the Scoobies, a spark from the fireplace in the Summers' house jumped onto the hearth where a bag of Lethe's Bramble lay, igniting the whole batch.

Fed up with the childish antics of her sister's friends, Dawn stood and stomped to the top of the entrance stairs. "Stop it!" she screeched at the top of her voice. "Stop it, just shut up!" Everyone was quiet then, ashamed of getting off such an important subject.

"Can we stop being petty, and just find my sister?" Dawn implored.

Anya couldn't help muttering under her breath. "Says the little girl who couldn't rest until she knew what 'fugly' meant."

"I need her," Dawn's eyes started to fill. "I _need_ her. I don't have anyone left if she's gone."

Willow shook her head. "Dawnie, that's not true, you know you have all of us-"

"It's not the same," Dawn whispered, her throat constricted. "I can't take it anymore. If you guys understood how it felt, how it feels, to get her back, and then have her taken away from me. It's like she's died all over again."

"Dawnie, we're so sorry," Willow offered softly.

"I _know_ you're sorry. Everybody's sorry, but you aren't doing anything about it," Dawn's tears fell down her cheeks, but her voice was filled with impotent anger. "And I can't help at all."

"We're doing what we can," Giles told her gently. "You're doing what you can by just getting through each day. But as I said, we don't know enough. And I really believe that if Angel survives this venture into Dinza's lair, we could really have a solid lead."

"And then you'll find her, right?" Dawn looked at them all with shaky hopefulness. No one could answer her, so she filled the void with what hope she had left. "She'll come back and then we'll all be okay. We'll " Dawn's eyes suddenly drifted shut and she slumped bonelessly to the floor.

None of the others reacted to this strange occurrence, as they were all busy falling into a dead faint where they stood or sat: Tara at the table, Anya and Giles on the bench next to each other, Spike on the counter, and Willow and Xander on the floor, the redheaded witch on top.

The ashes of Lethe's Bramble smoldered on the hearth.

* * *

Hours later, long after the sun had set, Dawn stirred. She opened her eyes, and sat up, bewildered to find herself in a darkened room with six strangers, all sleeping. Standing up gingerly, she tiptoed over to the nearest light switch and flipped it on.

She watched as a redheaded girl sat up with a startled gasp, staring in alarm at the boy she had just now been cuddling with. The boy looked startled too, until he seemed to notice how attractive the girl was, and gave her a bit of a leer.

A blond woman on a bench yawned, and disturbed the older, bespectacled gentleman propped on her back. Another blond girl awoke in her chair and blinked dazedly at the scene.

Lastly, a man with white-blond hair reclining on the counter, unconsciously rolled off it, and with a girlish yell, crashed onto the floor, making them all jump. He stood up abruptly, brushing off his odd brown suit, and trying to act like he meant to perform that stunt.

Dawn cautiously took a few steps away from these unfamiliar persons, and whimpered, "Who are you people?"


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 

Depression was an odd prison. It locked Buffy's mind in a thick, dark cloud from which it was difficult to see any light. Something so insubstantial and intangible as a cloud should be very easy to lift, or shove aside, yet it was as heavy as lead, and weighed down her soul. The cloud would let in a little daylight at times, but it always lingered, threatening the landscape with hailstones. It poisoned every small joy, every experience that would normally bring pleasure, or it made the simplest task seem impossible.

Once in a while it would release its prisoner from its grasp, but it could take over swiftly, and without much provocation. Bleakness replaced liveliness and hopefulness. Any enjoyment Buffy might have been experiencing was sucked from the air around her, and her world came crashing down around her feet. At moments like that, Buffy found herself immobilized in front of the campfire or if she was riding, propped against Legolas, unable to support her own weight.

Change was in the air, though, whether or not Buffy realized it. After having unloaded her secret to Legolas her smile was a little more ready. Her laughter was a tad more easily provoked, and her witty banter more available at the right moment. It was just a mite easier to get through every day, and to sleep through every night. The differences were very small; miniscule even, but they were there, and Buffy could feel them.

Buffy learned to cherish those moments of freedom, and held onto them for dear life. Anything that could make her smile or laugh, or just plain forget for a little while were like a balm to her aching heart. And when she was dragged back to her prison cell, her two companions were there to give her solace or distraction.

Feeling whole again was far, far off in the future and unlikely to happen at all from her point of view. After all, her life had come apart long before it had ended. Her calling to become the Slayer, the loss of innocence, friends, her parents' marriage, Angel, her mother's death, and the burden of her life had worn on her soul so much, that dying had been a huge relief. Being pulled out of heaven was just the rancid icing on the moldy cake.

But this new and fascinating world that she had fallen into provided many distractions for the Slayer. Well, it wasn't all that 'new', according to her companions, and they whiled away the monotony of riding and walking by filling her in on some of its history. Buffy thought that this was the best kind of history lesson. No boring books or lectures. Legolas and Gimli had actually lived through some of this stuff, so they spoke from their own experience, and their families' lore.

In fact, Gimli and Legolas had once fought in the same battle before they had actually known each other.

"We did not realize this until our journey to destroy the One Ring," Legolas told Buffy as they walked, letting the horses take a break from being ridden. "This was before we became friends, as I recall."

Gimli winked at Buffy, adding "We did not always get along as well as we do now, you see."

"We were sniping at each other, driving the others mad with our constant hostility," the Elf laughed. "Gimli at last remarked that he thought he'd never see the day when he'd be fighting alongside an elf rather than with one."

"Gandalf in his wisdom remarked at that point that I had already done so. In fact, the very elf I was cursing at fought with me at Erebor. That took the wind out of my sails straight away."

"Must have been a big battle if you hadn't at least noticed each other. Then again, I guess battles aren't really one of those times you get to socialize," Buffy quipped. "The battles I'm in are usually only a small party. You know, just a quiet evening with some close friends and a few monsters."

The Elf laughed musically at her witticism. "Yes, five armies fighting day and night was quite a crush. Elves, men, dwarves, orcs, and the great eagles," Legolas recounted. "We were astonished that we hadn't really realized it until then." He turned to Gimli then. "It shouldn't have surprised me to learn you were among the dwarves marching to Thorin Oakenshield's aid that day"

"Yes, and I should have realized you must have been encamped outside Erebor with your father, the treasure-hungry b-"

Buffy cut him off before he could go any further. "Let's not go there again, huh, Gim? Water under the bridge and all that, right?"

Gimli paused a moment to take in her meaning. "Yes, yes. It was all very long ago."

"Not all that long ago," Legolas countered. "Only eighty years or so."

"Eighty years seems pretty long to me," Buffy commented, and then stopped dead in her tracks. "Wait a minute, eighty years?" She stared at them both, open-mouthed, then turned her gaze to Legolas. "How old were you? Like negative thirty? And Gimli must have been like two years old! They let toddlers fight in major battles?" she babbled.

She stopped as they laughed uproariously at her incredulousness, and Buffy felt extremely stupid. After all, how many people did she know that were deceptively older than they looked?

"I am flattered you think me so young as eighty-two, my lady," Gimli chortled. "In fact, however, I am a mere babe compared to this elderly creature here," he added, glancing slyly at the Elf.

They laughed so much over this that Buffy got decidedly pouty in her humiliation. Although they begged her pardon for laughing at her for a good twenty minutes, she refused to be talked to. At last, they seemed contrite enough to quit teasing her, but just as she was about to relent, their mirth burst forth once more, and Buffy turned her back huffily on the both of them and trudged on ahead.

Legolas swiftly mounted Arod, urged the horse forward, and blocked Buffy's path. "Come, my friend, do not take offense," he pleaded laughingly. "Let us ride together for the rest of our day's travel, and you may tell us stories of your world, and then laugh at our silly questions."

Buffy smirked a little at that, and did some bargaining of her own. "Only if I get to be Queen for the day," she stated boldly, crossing her arms over her chest. At Legolas' raised brow she explained. "No setting up camp, or making me gut a fish, and _no_ latrine duty." These last two chores were on her most hated list. She truly didn't mind helping out, but there were limits.

Legolas rolled his eyes and laughed again, and Gimli who had caught up to them by then muttered, "As if we do not fetch and carry for you enough as it is."

"Hey, I do stuff!" Buffy protested. "I gather firewood, and-and um, I roll up my own bedroll-"

"You mean the Elf's bedroll," countered Gimli.

"He doesn't use it!" exclaimed the Slayer indignantly. "He never sleeps, do you, Lego?" She turned to look up at said Elf, who was looking thoughtful instead of blanching at the new nickname Buffy had given him.

"He has a point, Buffy," Legolas told her. "You really should learn more than the basics of rough living. After all, you never know what may befall us, and despite your great skill as a warrior, you would be at a loss as to how to survive in the Wild without us as your guides."

The Slayer huffed. "This is about you guys making it up to me, not Camping 101," Looking from the Elf to the Dwarf, now though, she realized she was in for it whether she liked it or not. Her shoulders slumped in resignation.

"Fine," she mumbled, and then as a thought occurred to her, she straightened up defiantly. "But I get to know exactly how old you are, and no more laughing at Buffy when she asks a stupid question."

"Ach, agreed, let's just move on from here instead of jabbering all day," Shaking his head grumpily, Gimli mounted Ironfoot, and went forward, leaving Buffy and Legolas behind for once.

"What got his panties all in a bunch?" Buffy murmured as she took Legolas' hand to help her mount the large horse.

"No doubt he is hungry," Legolas told her, but secretly he thought the Dwarf was very annoyed that Buffy had not been pulling her weight as far as the day to day work went, and rightly so. It was time for the girl to learn a thing or two, and become more useful.

Not that they wouldn't help her in any case, but Legolas felt that it would be healthier for her to have her mind focused on some new daily activities. Even latrine duty was better than having her brood over her predicament whenever they stopped for the night.

Gimli knew which way the wind blew now with this mysterious Slayer. Legolas had been granted permission to fill Gimli in on what Buffy had confessed that morning in the woods. The Dwarf listened grimly as he heard what her friends had done to her, and stated that she was handling it well, since he would have eviscerated anyone who dared to do the same thing to him, friend or not.

But he also felt that she was being coddled a little too much, and any more would just allow her to indulge in despair and self-pity. Gimli had no patience for such things, and though he vowed he would not be overly rough on Buffy, he would also not change in his usual demeanor towards her, since doing so would only feed her sadness. Compassion was all very well and Legolas could give her that, he'd declared, but from himself she'd be getting a good dose of reality. She was alive, and there was nothing to be done about it now.

"So?"

Legolas was shaken from his thoughts when he heard Buffy's voice. "So… what?" he prompted.

"So how old are you?"

"Why is it important?"

"It's not, I just don't want to be thrown for a loop again. People just don't live all that long in my world, unless you're a demon," Buffy explained nonchalantly. "The max life expectancy is around eighty years, unless you live way up in the mountains and eat a lot of yogurt, then you might live to be over a hundred. But even then, you're tottering around on a walker or in a wheelchair and people have to help you go to the bathroom and I'm babbling, I know," she paused for breath. "I just want to know what I should expect to find in this place."

"You are just curious, in other words."

"Yes, I'm curious, I'm the cat that curiosity killed, just spill it already!" Buffy nudged him impatiently.

Legolas thought for a moment. "I have lived nearly three thousand summers, and while I have never asked Gimli his age, I would guess he is around one hundred and fifty years old."

"One hundred and forty, Elf!" came Gimli's indignant shout.

Buffy whistled low. "Wow, you're like the oldest person I've ever met." She shifted on the horse in order to turn slightly towards Legolas. "How long do elves live?"

"We may be slain or die of grief or weariness, but we do not age as Men do or sicken. To some, we may seem immortal, but it is not so. We are merely bound to the world, and while our bodies may die, our spirits always remain."

"What about Dwarves and humans?" Buffy asked.

"Dwarves, I believe, only live until they have seen two hundred and fifty years." Legolas sounded sad now. "I do not know where their spirits go after death."

Buffy understood why. "You have a lot of non-elf friends, huh?"

"Yes, and it saddens me that I will live long after they have departed this world."

Buffy was quiet for a few moments, and then she spoke hesitantly. "Hey, Legolas, you said something the other day…you know when I told you about…what happened to me…"

"Yes?"

"It's all kind of a blur now, our conversation. I was so tired, and just…out of it."

"Ask your question, Buffy" Legolas urged her kindly.

"Sorry, I know I tend to beat around the bush," Buffy laughed apologetically. "But I'm pretty sure you said something about elves coming back to life sometimes?"

"Well, I believe what I told you was that elves can sometimes be reborn," Legolas corrected. "If we die, our spirits or _fëar_ go to the Halls of Waiting, and if we wish, we may return to life as children in the same body as we previously inhabited." He paused, considering. "Of course, how long we are in the Halls depends on how well we conducted ourselves the first time around."

Buffy suddenly got a visual of a huge waiting room, filled with elves listening to elevator music and flipping through magazines. She almost giggled as she pictured them sighing impatiently and checking wristwatches over and over again. A sudden thought occurred to her.

"So have you ever, you know, been reborn?" she asked tentatively. When Legolas replied in the negative she asked the question that had bothered her ever since Legolas had mentioned what had happened to the wizard.

"Well…what about your friend, Gandhi? He didn't come back as a baby, did he?" When Legolas was silent, it was obvious she'd gotten the name wrong and she clued him in. "You know the wizard we're off to see."

"Gandalf," Legolas corrected her again. "Gandalf is not an elf. Nor is he of the race of Men. At least _I_ do not think he is."

"What is he, then?"

"I…do not know for certain. My father has long suspected that there is more to Gandalf than anyone really knows. His origins are mysterious and vague. It is well-known that he belongs to an order of wizards, two others whom I have met. Saruman the White was one, and also Radagast the Brown. Gandalf was called the Grey. If there are more, I have not heard tell of them. They all have the form of old men, and I say form because Gandalf appears to be very old, but his body is agile, and he is a fierce fighter."

"Saruman was the one those nasty guys were working for, right?" Buffy shivered involuntarily.

"Yes, and as I told you, he has been cast from the order," Legolas told her reassuringly, and patted her arm. "He was the head of it and his title was 'the White'. But after Gandalf's return to life he became 'the White' and Saruman was cast out." Another thought occurred to the Elf. "That is the only time in all the years I have known him, and I first met him over a thousand years ago, that his appearance has changed in any way. He has looked ever the same before then."

"How did he die?" Buffy inquired softly.

Before answering her, Legolas took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and saw the image he would never forget, even when he passed into the West: of Gandalf, formidable and powerful, bravely facing Durin's Bane.

"It was during our journey to destroy the Ring. We were deep in the mines of Moria, once a great kingdom of Dwarves, but it is now nothing but a tomb, infested with goblins. We should never have ventured that way, but it seemed that we had no choice, for all other ways proved impassable." Here he paused for breath, and his tone became regretful as he continued. "The Fellowship lingered much too long in the city of Dwarrowdelf, and the goblins attacked. We were victorious after one skirmish, but when we made our way to the Bridge of Khazad-dûm, which would have led us to the other side of the mountain, we were surrounded."

"By more goblins?"

Legolas' voice revealed the revulsion he held for these creatures. "They were like insects. Thousands of them crawling from holes and from up above, and we had no way out." He paused again, remembering the horror that had come next. "But then suddenly, a deep booming sound gave them a fright and they scattered."

"That's good," Buffy's voice quirked upward.

"That sound was the giant footsteps of a great terror. A Balrog, a demon of the ancient world. It was made of shadow and flame. Almost as tall as the mountain in which it dwelt, it carried a flaming sword and a fiery whip with many thongs."

"That's bad."

"We ran," Legolas swallowed. The memory was still as real to him as the day it had happened. "When we finally got to the door, Gandalf stopped and faced the demon. It lunged forward and roared, and I could feel the heat from its fiery breath on my face. I did not know what fear was until that moment."

Buffy kept quiet, breathlessly listening to the Elf's tale. He continued. "It lashed its whip, but Gandalf stood his ground, telling the creature it could not pass. Our wizard, our leader declared himself to be a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anór. A great light surrounded Gandalf when the beast tried to strike him with its sword, and the weapon broke. With a mighty shout, Gandalf drove his staff into the stone bridge and cracked it. The Balrog stepped forward to attack but the bridge crumbled beneath its feet, and it fell into the abyss."

Buffy shivered again, goosebumps forming all over her skin. Her heart beat wildly, and she held her breath for she knew that nothing good happened next.

"Gandalf turned back to us, and we had barely begun to breathe again, when suddenly the Balrog's whip struck. It reached up, and wrapped around the wizard's leg and pulled him down. We stared, not daring to move to help him, as he hung onto the bridge. Just before he fell, he whispered, 'Fly, you fools!' And then he was gone."

A long moment passed before Buffy could speak. "He sacrificed himself for all of you," she stated quietly.

"Yes, but we did not know that he had not met his death until eight days after he fell," Legolas told her. "When he returned to us, he told us that he and the Balrog fell through fire and water, and at last they continued their battle on the side of the mountain where the demon had fled. There, after his enemy had fallen, was where Gandalf died of his wounds. He awoke in the forests of Lórien where his friend Gwaihir, Lord of the Eagles, had borne him. The Valar had sent him back, for his full purpose was not yet served."

This last statement stuck in Buffy's brain, and she tried to shake it off, but it only dug deeper into her psyche. She didn't want to think about the similarities between herself and the wizard: they had both faced the Biggest Bad to beat all Big Bads; they had both sacrificed themselves for loved ones and the world; they'd both done so by falling, and they'd both come back from the dead.

Even though Gandalf had returned to life under vastly different circumstances than she had, it still gave her the wiggins. Hadn't she served her full purpose? She had fought as the Slayer for six long years, given up so much for her calling and above all she'd protected her sister, the Key. Up on that rickety tower, she realized she'd finally come full circle. Buffy couldn't give any more than she already had, could she?

"When Mithrandír, Gandalf that is, returned to us, that is when I knew my father had been right; the wizard was so much more than he seemed to be," Legolas continued with his story, and Buffy was glad to be distracted from where her thoughts had been leading her. "He was graver when he came back, not as affable as he used to be, but then, he had come back at a very grave time. 'At the turn of the tide' he said."

"Hm," said Buffy noncommittally.

"I suppose it was also what he said when he confronted the Balrog that also told me what he might be…" Legolas said almost to himself.

"Something about a fire?" Buffy prompted when Legolas did not elaborate.

"Yes, a Servant of the Secret Fire, a wielder of the Flame of Anór," the Elf whispered, his voice filled with wonder and reverence.

"And those things would be…what?"

"A mysterious power, I think. Fire is the source of life, and 'Anór' is the Sun whose light came from one of the Two Trees of Valinor."

"Sunlight grows on trees?" Buffy asked incredulously. "If we had that back home, I'd have no problem slaying vamps. I'd just throw some fruit at 'em."

"Or he may have meant…well, any number of things." Legolas ignored Buffy's comment. "I would only know for certain if I asked him, but I doubt he would tell me."

"One of those enigmatic types, huh? Well, he'd better not be all cryptic with me," Buffy said decidedly. "When I ask him to zap me home, I want to know how to get there. I don't want to have to decipher riddles. That's so annoying."

"Gandalf likes riddles," Legolas told her with a smirk, and Buffy elbowed him lightly in the ribs. He laughed, and urged Arod forward to join Gimli and his mount.

"How is your ankle?" asked the Elf.

Buffy looked down at the ankle in question and wiggled her foot around. "Good as new," she answered. "I could have sworn I'd broken it the other night, but I guess…hm," Buffy frowned. She really had broken it, she was sure of it. She heard and felt the crack of bone, but when they reached their camp, the joint seemed to only be strained. "Weird," she muttered. "I heal fast but not _that_ fast."

"Could something about you have changed when you came back to life?" Legolas asked. He immediately regretted it once he felt the stirring of panic rising in Buffy. He had not meant for that to happen, and he put a comforting arm around her waist.

Briskly changing the subject, Buffy asked how much longer they could continue to ride that day. She was anxious to be at their destination more than ever now.

"Could we pick up the pace a bit?" she asked her companion. "I'm willing to travel longer days at a faster pace if everyone else is."

"The horses need their rest, Buffy. They are strong, but we cannot drive them too hard," Legolas told her apologetically.

"Right. I know," she said quietly. "I just want to get to the end of this journey."

Knowing there was more to that statement than she was actually saying, Legolas frowned. A surge of protectiveness welled up in his heart, along with a little anger at her constant state of hopelessness. He wanted to see this girl healed and happy, as she deserved.

"You will, _mellon nin_," he whispered. "You will."

Author's Note: We know, as readers, what Gandalf is, but very few people in ME were aware of his status as one of the Maiar. It's possible that Elrond, Galadriel and Círdan the Shipwright knew who he was, but he didn't wear a sign saying, "I'm a Maia, ask me how", so it's unlikely that Legolas or any of the Fellowship had any idea. Being smart though, I'm sure some of them had their suspicions.

I also made a correction in Chapter 8. In it, Legolas refers to Gandalf being a Maia. It was written a long time ago, so I'd forgotten it was there. Now, he only refers to Sauron being a Maia. I think that's probably well-known.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 

"_Are you lost?"_

Angel turned swiftly, feeling ghostly fingers on his back. He saw nothing, but the flutter of leathery wings made him turn again. Once more, a hand grabbed at his neck and he spun, still encountering nothing. All around him whispers stirred, and dripping water echoed.

"Keep it up, you're going to make me dizzy," Angel ground out in annoyance, looking around the putrid lair deep in the sewers of Los Angeles. He looked up when the voice spoke for a second time. Dinza, the creature from Wesley's book squatted on a beam high above him.

_"I doubt it," _She tilted her bald, mottled head, looking at him through a veil of cobwebs. _"I think it would have happened before now. After being sent to Hell and then spat back out you should be accustomed to the feeling. Tell me, do you miss the Hellmouth?" _

Thrown off, Angel took a cautious step forward. "You know who I am?"

"_I know you were lost," _she whispered enigmatically. _"I know all the lost things."_

"Really?" Angel inquired, seemingly impressed. At her nod, he revved up his witty banter and continued. "City of Atlantis? Holy Grail? Jimmy Hoffa?"

Dinza stared at him a moment, and then suddenly lunged. _"Lost love." _She took flight and landed on another beam behind him and crouched there, grinning.

"So you know why I'm here? Who I'm trying to find?"

"_She is far from you, champion, and needs you no longer,"_ she shook her head in mock sympathy.

"I need her," Angel countered determinedly. "This world needs her."

Without warning the whispers grew louder, and Dinza turned her head sharply. She listened for a moment, and then looked back at the vampire, her eyes glowing in the dim light.

"_They think that you should join them. That I should never let you out."_

Angel readied himself for a fight, when the goddess chuckled.

"_But who listens to the dead?"_ She leaned towards him and pointed a gnarled finger. _"The Axis of Pythia rests close by. What you seek can only be found inside the Axis." _She stood slowly, and Angel tried to make sense of her speech.

"The Axis?" he repeated.

_"An ancient power bridging all dimensions. Find the Axis, and find your lost one." _

"Why should I trust you?" Angel backed away a step, and all at once she was behind him. Her hands clutched his shoulders, and she caressed his cheek with a fingernail. He froze.

"_Because I would love to keep you. But you have so much more to lose."

* * *

_

Willow sat in her corner at the Summers' household, feeling utterly dejected. Well, she wasn't really in a corner, but it sure felt like she'd been sent to sit in one, complete with a conical DUNCE cap on her head.

Ever since the recent debacle with her _Tabula Rasa_ spell, everyone was snapping at her and berating her. Except for Xander. Good old Xand. He didn't look happy, it was true, but whenever someone started in on her about her use of magic, he'd jump in and defend her. Sort of. Actually, not so much. Willow cringed, remembering the things that were said after the spell had broken. She could still see Giles' lividly disappointed face staring her down.

"I never thought you'd go this far, Willow. Honestly, what could you have been thinking?"

"You absolutely horrible person! I can't believe you'd put us all in that kind of danger. What is _wrong_ with you?" Anya strode over to Willow, with her hands outstretched, ready to strangle the witch.

"Look everyone, I think we're getting out of hand here-" Xander leapt in between Willow and Anya before the fur started to fly. It was just moments after they had all gotten their memories back, and the gang, including Spike, had returned to The Magic Box to sort things out.

"Out of hand?" Anya had exclaimed angrily. "Excuse me, but you weren't the one fighting for your life in a shop full of bunnies! Do you know what that's like?"

"Well, sort of, because we were the ones fighting for our lives against a vampire, and we didn't even know they existed at the time, so technically-"

"Whatever! You can't just play with people's lives like that. For Pete's sake, Giles and I thought we were a couple, and we- we uh…" Anya hesitated, her countenance becoming suddenly guilty-like. Giles coughed, and she waved her hand in dismissal. "Well that's just for starters. Nobody knew who they were. Why did you do that?"

"I wanted to make everybody forget!" Willow shouted defensively. "Forget what we did, and just move on and let Buffy rest, wherever she is."

"We don't _know_ where she is, you bloody bint, that's why we're trying to find her. And thank you _so_ much for slowing us down." Spike had discarded his jacket and tie, and was relaxing with a post-amnesia cigarette.

"She could be in a lot of trouble right now, and we would have forgotten all about her." Dawn stared at Willow accusingly from the counter with her arms folded across her chest. "If she's suffering because of you, I'll- I'll have somebody bigger than me kill you."

Willow looked over at Tara in mute appeal. Her lovely girlfriend had not said one word to her since the crystal broke. Now she just sat at the table, and looked to the door, lost in her own thoughts.

Finding no help in that quarter, Willow looked to Xander, but his eyes were cast down to the floor, and he was shaking his head. "Xander," she whispered beseechingly. "Help me out, here."

Before he could speak, Anya jumped in. "Don't you dare defend her, Xander. You are way too soft on her, and that's a big part of the problem." When he didn't respond, she added, "Do I have to remind you about the bunnies?"

Xander considered his words for a moment. "Will, I know you won't want to hear this from me but," He turned and faced her, his brown eyes full of concern. "I think you need to take a little break."

"Yes, Xander, I think that would be wise," Giles stated in a clipped tone. He turned to Willow with purpose. "In fact, I am now your official watchdog, Willow. You will not lift one finger without my supervision, do you understand? This is the end of the line for you with magic. You are to do nothing, nothing at all without my permission and observation."

"Jeez, can I go to the bathroom by myself?" Willow asked sarcastically.

"Do not treat this lightly, girl!" Giles' shout made everyone jump. He lowered his voice, but every word bit into Willow as if he were screaming at her. "I should have seen this coming. I should have done something about it long ago. You have never been able to deal with pain very well, and you have never had the respect for the consequences of powerful magic."

"That's not true-"

Nearly everyone scoffed at that, and Willow remembered how awful she felt then. They all began to remind her of her magical disasters and her carelessness. They seemed to forget all of her triumphs and successes. She'd done a lot to help, but they could only see the negative.

Now she was completely forbidden to do any kind of magic. Not even to help Buffy. Tara and Giles had set up a barrier to prevent her from entering The Magic Box. If she tried to get in, a high-pitched alarm that only she could hear would ring in her ears for a month, and probably damage her hearing, not to mention drive her crazy. If she tried to tamper with the alarm, (Anya had suggested this one) there was a spell put on that too. Her skin would turn completely green. Permanently.

"It's a lovely chartreuse, actually," Anya pointed out smugly, when they told Willow about these restrictions. "It'll totally clash with your hair, though."

Remembering how Xander just stood silently by as all these things happened to her, the witch's heart ached. He didn't try to reason with the others, or even to comfort her. She shook her head and ground her teeth, knowing that Anya had her best friend completely under her little ex-demonic thumb.

What hurt the most, however, was Tara. Willow's eyes filled as she thought of what her girlfriend said to her when she'd tried to apologize.

"Don't! Just…don't. There's nothing you can say."

"Tara, I didn't mean to-"

"To what? Violate our minds like that? _My_ mind? How could you, Willow? How could you after what Glory did to me?"

Willow frowned at Tara's harsh interpretation of her actions. "Violate you? I didn't mean anything like that, I just wanted all of us to stop hurting."

"If you don't wanna feel bad, you don't do hurtful things. You don't use magic to make it all disappear." A thought occurred to Tara, and she turned suspicious eyes to her girlfriend. "Have you used that spell on me before? Just me, when we've had a fight or something?"

Willow was too surprised to voice a denial, and Tara saw all she needed to know in that moment. She stood up angrily, and Willow stood as well, and reached out to her. Tara put up her hands and backed up, not wanting to be touched.

Willow dropped her hand dejectedly. "But I just wanted to make things better. Better for all of us."

"But you don't get to decide what is better for us, Will. We're all of us in this thing, we are supposed to decide for ourselves," Tara told her sharply. "And you and me, we're in a relationship. When we fight we're supposed to resolve it together! What is wrong with you?"

"Okay, I'm- I realize I-I did it wrong," Willow conceded, but inside she felt confused and not a bit indignant. Why shouldn't she try to fix what she'd done wrong in the first place? Okay, so it went all kablooey, but her heart was in the right place, wasn't it?

Tara shook her head gravely. "You did it the way you're doing everything. When things get rough you…you don't even consider the options. You just…you just do a spell. It's not good for you, Willow. And it's not what magic is for."

Willow couldn't believe what she was hearing. She wasn't evil, but everyone, including her girlfriend was acting like she was. "But I just wanna help people."

"Maybe that's how it started, but…you're helping yourself now, fixing things to your liking. Including me." A horrible silence fell, and Tara looked away, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't think this is gonna work."

This was enough to make Willow promise anything at all. Panic welled in Willow's throat, and she rushed forward and tried to take Tara's hands. "No! I need you, Tara, please don't leave me, please! I'll change. I'll do what Giles' tells me, I won't do any magic, just please don't leave me!"

Tara heard the rising hysteria in Willow's voice and relented just a little. "I'll have to think about it. We'll give it some time, and then we'll see. But I need some space right now. Let's just take a break, okay?" "I can't believe I'm saying this!"

Willow couldn't believe it, either. It was impossible to stop the tears from falling as she relived this scene in her head. Her life was falling apart. She was a prisoner, forbidden to do magic. When and if they found Buffy and brought her back, Willow was being transported to England, where, Giles informed her autocratically, she would be 'learning about the proper use of magic' from a coven in Devon. This meant she had to take a leave of absence from school.

It really rankled Willow that she was being ordered around like this. All her magic paraphernalia had been confiscated as well. Even her books. It was done so fast, she didn't have a chance to secret away an emergency stash.

And now she was sitting here during a Scooby meeting, totally unable to really participate. They'd gotten a phone call from Angel. He'd seen the icky goddess, who had told them about this Axis of Pythia thing.

"The Axis of Cynthia?"

"Pythia," Giles corrected Dawn.

"Thounds like you got a thpeech impediment, there Gileth." Xander joked. No one laughed, and he looked around expectantly. "You know, Pythia instead of…Pyssia? Oh never mind."

Giles continued, ignoring the interruption. "Wesley faxed over some pages on this object. It's an ancient power that bridges dimensions. A two-foot high metal arch that stands on a marble base." Giles held up a drawing that depicted the mystical instrument. "Forged from the tripod of the Delphic Oracle, the three-legged golden stool in the temple of Apollo at Delphi where the priestess sat while giving responses to those consulting the Oracle."

"The Oracle at Delphi?" Anya scoffed. "She didn't know anything. That temple was built into a cave where these noxious gases coming from underground made her all high, and she'd just babble some gibberish at you in response to your questions. It's one of the few times something supernatural really does get explained away by simple science." She looked at Giles who was frowning at her in confusion. "Oh, it was all before my time of course, but you hear things when you've been around as long as I have."

"You mean you could ask her a question about the future, and she could say 'Blabadoo bleebadoo, chirp, chirp, chirp!'?" Xander waved his hands erratically and flapped his arms like a chicken. This time he got a few giggles, and he reveled in it a moment before continuing. "What can you get from that?"

"Well, there were these priests who interpreted for her. She'd prattle, and they'd just tell the questioner something they made up off the top of their heads. It was a clever racket." Anya explained with a bit of admiration in her voice.

"Then what good is this piece of junk if it was all a con?" Spike asked impatiently. "And speaking of 'prattle', can we _please_ stay on subject?"

"Yes, let's," Giles agreed, and cleared his throat. "Well, the Oracle may or may not have been an actual psychic or clairvoyant, but there must have been something mystical about either her or the place she was in, because the Axis has many powers. Among them is the ability to find souls or entities across dimensions."

"Where is this thing, let's go get it!" Dawn cried excitedly.

"It's in an auction house in Los Angeles," Giles perused another document to find this information. "Chandler's Auction House, an establishment firmly rooted in the black market."

"Convenient," Spike muttered.

"Not really," the Watcher countered. "It's not up for auction at this time, so it's probably in their vault."

"Couldn't we, I don't know, offer to buy it, take it off their hands?" Xander suggested.

"Certainly," Giles nodded. "If anyone here has thirty-three million dollars, please step up and we'll do just that."

Xander broke out into a huge coughing fit, and Anya pounded him on the back. When he recovered, he said "So I'm guessing we're stealing it."

"_We _are not, Angel and his team are," Giles told him. "They'll be going in tomorrow night."

"They'll need help," Willow said. Everyone turned to look at her. She had not spoken a word since the meeting began, of course, but she had had enough of being a spectator. "A place like that is going to have all sorts of high-tech razzmatazz. I-I could cloak them with magic-"

"No!" Everyone shouted at once. Giles glared at her, and Tara did so as well.

"You know, sooner or later you guys are going to need me. No offense, hon- Tara, but you know you're not as strong as I am, and when we find out where Buffy is, we'll probably need some major mojo in order to get her back." She paused for breath, and looked pleadingly at her friends. "I really want to help."

Tara stepped forward, her arms crossed. "If you want to help, you can hack into the auction house's computers, and shut down the security systems." She shook her head. "No magic. Please Will? Just stick this out for a while, okay?"

"If and when we find Buffy's location, Willow, we may need your magic skills," Giles conceded quietly. "Until then…I just can't trust you not to go out and do something rash. You've proven to us that you're quite skilled, but you've broken faith with us all. Playing with our minds was wrong, and you know it."

Xander worked up some enthusiasm in the ever gloomy atmosphere. "Do the hacker thing again, Willow, you're a genius at it. You haven't done it in a long time. I think it'd be good for you."

Willow took in her friends' wary and hopeful faces and finally relented. "All right. Call Angel, tell him I'm in."

Xander gave her a half-smile, Giles nodded in approval, and Tara's eyes softened a little. Willow smiled hesitantly, and there was a moment of the old camaraderie among them until Anya spoke up.

"Just think," she chirped. "If we'd thought of getting the Axis before, we would have had a way of knowing that Buffy was in heaven, and then none of this would have happened." She looked at the frowning faces around her. "What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking!"

Author's note: Dinza, and the Axis of Pythia, as well as the dialogue from the first scene in this chapter are taken from the _Angel_ episode entitled "Ground State", which does not occur until Season 4 of _Angel. _For purposes of this story the dialogue has been altered somewhat. Season 4 coincides with Season 7 of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer._ I am purposefully putting these events in a season earlier, since they serve the plot of my story. I'm not going to go into how this may affect the events that occur in _Angel_ since it's just too complicated.

The dialogue between Tara and Willow is taken from the beginning of "Tabula Rasa".


	20. Chapter 20

Author's note: This is a very long chapter, and I hope you all enjoy it. I also want to note that I made a revision to some of the dialogue in Chapter 18 regarding elves and immortality. I recently read something that contradicted my earlier belief that elves were immortal. Tolkien specifically says that they are not, but to anyone who is not an elf, they would appear to be so. If you would like to read this, please go here: http/oxfordinklings. and hopefully that will clear it up for you if you are confused.

Please, please, please review. I beg unabashedly for your reviews.

Chapter 20 

"Where is it? I don't see it!"

"It is right there, Buffy, in front of you."

"Oh, there…damn it, it moved. Where did it go?"

"It did not move, it is still there!"

"Well, I can't see it! Quit pointing, I can't tell what you're pointing at!"

"Do not yell, you are going to scare it away."

"Well there's nothing there to scare…wait…no that's a plant, not a fish."

"I never said that was a fish, I said _that_ was a fish!" Legolas sighed. "_Ai_, Elbereth, it was right by your foot, and now it is gone."

Buffy grumbled in frustration. This was her fifth attempt at spear fishing this week, and it was not going well. She squinted at the water again, trying to see the trout Legolas had told her was there. If only she could see the fish, she was sure she'd have no trouble spearing them, what with her enhanced abilities and reflexes. But the sun was reflecting off of the water, and she couldn't make out any fish-like shapes. And her bare feet were freezing.

"How about we forget the fish, and catch a nice bunny?" she suggested with a smile.

"You have no patience, at all, Buffy," Legolas scolded. "How can anybody teach you anything if you do not want to learn?"

"They can't!" Buffy snapped loudly, not caring if the entire population of fish in the stream swam away and hid. "I don't want to learn spear fishing, there's no point!"

"As long as you are in this world you are going to have to learn to live in it," Legolas snapped back.

"Don't you people have grocery stores? You know, with the produce section, the dairy section, the meat counter and all the frozen foods?" Buffy whined. "They have fish too. All kinds!"

"No markets exist in the wild, Buffy!" Legolas took the spear from her and headed further into the water. He paused, looking down, and before Buffy could blink, he'd thrust the spear down into the water, and pulled it back with a large fish impaled on the end of it.

"Show off," she muttered. The Elf gave no sign that he'd heard her, but Buffy was sure he must have. What with the super-hearing and all. "You know it isn't fair," she told him sulkily. "Your Valley or Valor or whatever they're called gave elves all the cool abilities, and nothing to us humans. You guys are immortal, pretty, you have never had a bad hair day in the month that I've known you, you don't get stinky and you can do all this cool stuff. _I've_ got superpowers, but I probably look like a hell hound, and I _know_ I smell like one. This world sucks!"

Legolas stood by politely as she finished her tirade, and then plucked the fish from the end of his spear. "You think I am pretty?" He asked playfully and opened the sack that hung from a strap across his chest and placed his catch in it.

"Oh, don't go digging for compliments, fisher-elf." Buffy trudged out of the water, stomping on the grass to get the mud off of her feet. "Besides, you know you are." She turned and watched Legolas climb up to the bank. "Let's go make dinner, I'm starved."

"What dinner would that be?" the Elf asked with mock innocence.

Buffy glared at him. "The fish."

"You mean the one that _I_ caught?" He shook his head when she nodded. "Oh no. Gimli and I are going to be dining on this fish. I am afraid there will be nothing left for you."

Buffy's nostrils flared, and she took a bold step forward. "Oh yeah? You wanna bet? I could take that thing from you right now." Legolas' responding smirk fueled her ire. "Let's go, right now, Lego. You and me, right here!" She moved into a fighting stance and raised her fists.

Legolas remained where he was. "We could fight for it, if you really wanted, Buffy. And you could very well defeat me." He sauntered closer to her. "But if you win the prize, you must figure out what to do with it."

Buffy dropped her hands and an expression of unease played across her features. "You mean…"

"I mean, clean it, gut it and cook it." Satisfied when Buffy's face fell, he walked past her. "And _not_ burn it like last night."

Stunned by a sudden thought, Buffy turned and called after him. "So wait, I don't get to eat _at all_?"

The Elf stopped and pivoted to face her, his face showing surprise. "Of course you get to eat, Buffy. We would not starve you. But you will only eat what you catch yourself." He tossed the spear to her, and when she caught it, he turned and headed back to camp.

Buffy stood with the spear in her hand, half-tempted to throw it at his perfect head. "There's other things to eat in our supplies!" she yelled.

"Not for you!" he called back.

"Wha- you- you evil, mean, nasty…_stupid elf_!"

"I heard that!"

"You were _supposed_ to hear it!" Buffy waited for a response, but hearing none, she stood and pouted for a minute. "What crawled up his ass and died?" she muttered.

"I heard that too!"

"Augghh!" she thrust the spear into the ground, and nearly broke it with the force of her anger. She was glad it didn't break, because if it had, she would have had to carve a new one out all by herself. Legolas had helped her fashion this one earlier in the week. Not that she'd wanted to, but ever since their discussion about the wizard and her subsequent broodiness, he'd been on this weird kick about teaching her how to live in the wild.

Buffy didn't want to do any of this stuff, but both Legolas and Gimli kept insisting. She couldn't really blame them for wanting to prod her out her most recent funk. Buffy didn't know why the wizard's 'back to life' story bothered her, it just did. Their means of returning to life were so different; him with the gods pretty much just waking him up from death and her with Willow's 'against the forces of nature' resurrection spell, and then clawing her way out of her grave four months after dying to save the world. She supposed it was just that she didn't know _why _she was back. Why it had been allowed to happen. What she was supposed to do now. What her purpose was. Wizard guy knew his reasons for being, why couldn't she?

For the past week, Buffy had allowed these questions to make her withdraw from her companions and their activities until they had finally had enough. Her bad moods were causing Gimli to become more crotchety and Legolas actually started to look haggard. Well, as haggard as an elf could look.

Things finally changed on one particular night, when Buffy yet again sat morosely by the fire as the other two set up camp. Legolas suddenly sank to the ground, cradling his head in his hands, and groaning in agony. Startled out of her mopey reverie, Buffy looked at the Elf noticing his exhaustion for the first time.

"What's wrong, Lad?" Gimli asked, concern for his friend etched across his features.

"I need to…I need to go for a walk, I think…alone," Legolas stood and headed away from them. It was pitch black, but the glow from his Elven form and his keen eyesight helped him find his way.

"Way to be your own walking flashlight," Buffy mumbled, wishing Legolas had not left. Lately it was becoming a habit of hers to find solace just by being in his company. He had a soothing effect on her most of the time, though she was completely uncertain as to why. Every time she reached out to him he was there and the pain would go away for a little while.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Buffy asked Gimli tentatively.

"I am worried for him," Gimli answered. "He has never looked so tired or acted so strangely in all the time I have known him." He glanced at Buffy. "Not since we met you, anyway."

Buffy drew back, hurt by his implication. She blinked some tears away, and stood. Hugging herself, she walked away a few steps. "You know, if I had a map or something, and maybe a car, I'd just send you guys on your way, and you'd be rid of me. I'd get to where I'm going on my own."

Gimli exhaled loudly in irritation. "I did not mean that like it sounded, lass," he grumbled. "I suppose I should say that ever since he awoke you from your long sleep he has behaved strangely."

Buffy, turned to him, her brow wrinkled questioningly. "How did he do that, anyway?"

Gimli shook his head. "I know not. I was elsewhere at the time, and he would not tell me."

Buffy sat back down again, still a little stung, but now also worried for her friend, the Elf. She had never thanked him for saving her life, however it was he'd happened to do it. At the time, she'd been too angry at him to think about the 'how', let alone be grateful. But now, she realized that he had done the right thing. In her righteous wrath, she had reasoned that she would rather have died in that blissful state. She felt differently now. She was also over the death wish she'd made during the battle with the Smelly Hairy Guys. It wasn't the exact opposite of wanting to die, and she didn't really know what had changed, but she figured she'd rather stick it out for the time being.

Buffy decided that instead of thanking him, which would just feel awkward, she would honor the agreement she'd made earlier in the week. The one where she said she would let her companions teach her how to be an über Girl Scout. She realized she was probably being a bit of a pain to these guys, and she told them both she was ready to start lessons when Legolas got back from his walk.

Legolas, who was looking a little better, was very pleased to hear what Buffy had to say. Gimli nodded in silent approval. The Elf told her they would start her lessons the very next day.

First Buffy learned how to build and light a fire without a lighter or matches. That was no big deal. She could rub sticks together until they sparked in no time at all. Slayer strength came in handy that way. She also learned the do's and don'ts of campfire building, and she just had to get in a joke or two about Smokey the Bear. Naturally, all she got in response were blank stares.

Next, they taught her some riding skills on Ironfoot, Gimli's pony. Since Buffy was so short, and Gimli needed a saddle and tack to ride, it was the most practical option. Buffy was glad, because with Legolas in the driver's seat on Arod, it was one thing, but she was not ready to ride a gigantic horse bareback all by herself. Those lessons occurred every day after lunch for an hour, since they couldn't spare too much travel time.

Hunting and tracking came next, and although those came so naturally to Buffy when pursuing demons and vampires, bunnies and deer were a different story. Fashioning traps out of sticks and what-not was a little beyond her sphere of knowledge, but she had to admit it might come in handy if she ever got home someday. She couldn't sense the animals like Legolas, but she handled the bow and arrow deftly, killing her prey when she could spot it.

Cooking was another story altogether. Campfire culinary skills were completely unnecessary in her world, and how she wished for a frozen dinner and a microwave every time they made her skin and gut something and put it on a spit. They'd eaten many an extra-crispy meat entrée several nights in a row due to her reluctance and incompetence.

Now, it was spear fishing. Buffy thought she'd be more than proficient at this task, since impaling things with pointy sticks was a big part of her calling. But she could never see the darn things, or if she did she'd scare them away with her splashing. Watching Legolas move without making a sound or a ripple was starting to get on her nerves, and unfortunately, she let it show.

Buffy figured that her attitude was what had gotten her into this situation. Instead of being given a share of whatever any one of them had caught, which was what they usually did, she was forced to catch her own dinner. Buffy searched for another fish while cursing under her breath about superior, annoying elves and their stupid hair, when she heard the sound of rustling leaves behind her. Thinking it must be Gimli come to help her, she sighed in relief.

"You won't believe what that Elf is making me do, Gim. I'm beginning to see why dwarves don't like elves very much."

"Oh, come now," said a melodic and unfamiliar voice. "We are not all as bad as Thranduilión. Some of us actually have good manners. Neither my brother nor I would leave a lady unaccompanied thus."

Buffy turned in a flash, churning the water with her spear raised for an attack. There, atop a horse, was another elf. Dark-haired with twinkling grey eyes, he stared back at her intently.

"Forgive me, Lady, for startling you. I heard you while riding by with my brother. Is there some way I may be of assistance?"

Buffy looked up at the elf, then at her spear, and smirked. "Know anything about fishing?"

* * *

"You look weary, Thranduilión," Elrohir observed as he tethered his horse to the nearest tree. "Is the dwarf's company finally becoming tiresome?"

Gimli muttered something very rude-sounding in his native tongue, and commenced gutting the fish in his hand as if he wished it were something much taller, and with pointy ears. Secretly, though, he hoped that the Sons of Elrond would be able to suss out what was wrong with his friend, for Legolas would not divulge anything.

"Nay, _mellon nín_," Legolas gave a small laugh. "We have a new companion with us. A young mortal woman." At Elrohir's inquiring raised eyebrow, he smiled and shook his head. "I fear I cannot tell you much about her, except that her name is Buffy, and she hails from…from some place that I have never heard of."

"Buffy?" Elrohir echoed. "And you know nothing of this woman? How came you to be traveling with her then?"

"I did not say that I knew nothing of her," Legolas countered. "It is only-"

"It is only like trying to pull a Mumakíl out of a vat of molasses in order to get her to open her mouth!" Gimli stated gruffly. "It took us weeks to hear her whole story, and even now, we are still mystified by her."

"She is very secretive, 'tis true," Legolas affirmed. He glanced at Gimli reprovingly. "But she has good reason to keep some things to herself. It is frustrating, though," he added quickly when Gimli moved to protest. "Perhaps that is why we look weary."

"I said _you _looked weary, Legolas. The Dwarf looks as hearty as ever." Elrohir replied. He approached Gimli with a serious, but friendly mien. "You must tell me if you have any news of your father. It was good to see him at my father's house once again."

"He remembers you fondly too, lad," Gimli smiled at the dark-haired elf, the taunt from before now forgiven. "He does very well at Erebor, thank you."

"Well, tell him when you have the chance, that Bilbo sends his greetings."

"I shall."

Elrohir turned back to Legolas, a speculative gleam in his eye. "What _can_ you tell me of this mortal woman with a most unusual name? And where is she now?"

"She is a most unusual mortal, Elrohir. More like the _Edain_ with great strength and skill as a warrior. She speaks in strange patterns, making odd statements I can hardly understand, but she has a quality of goodness about her that is unmistakable."

Elrohir's eyebrow rose up again when he heard the admiration in the Prince of Mirkwood's voice. "A warrior, is she? Well my brother and I will have to put her skills to the test."

"Where is your brother?" Legolas looked behind Elrohir for a sign of Elladan riding up, but saw no one. "I saw him go a separate path earlier as you were riding here."

"He heard something as we were riding here, a voice cursing farther on in the woods, so he went to investigate."

Legolas smirked. "That would be Buffy. I left her to fend for herself in catching a fish for her dinner. That is one skill that she has yet to master. I told her she wouldn't eat what she did not catch herself, but I am afraid that I will have to renege on that threat. She will likely be out there all night without success and starve as a result, if I do not."

"Shows what you know, Lego-Blocks," said an impertinent female voice. Everyone turned to see Buffy riding with Elladan, three large fish skewered on the end of her spear.

Legolas frowned when he saw her catch and her smug expression. "You- did you catch those fish yourself, Buffy?"

"You're not the boss of me. I'll eat what I want. If Elladan here helped me out, what difference does it make?"

"I could not allow a lady fend for herself," Elladan dismounted gracefully, then helped Buffy down. "Besides, my brother and I need sustenance as well. What we catch we share, right, brother?"

Buffy glanced to where Elladan had addressed his question and saw his identical twin for the first time. She looked from one to the other for a bit, thinking, _Wow,_ _wowie, wow, wow, wow, wow!_ before realizing she was gaping. Elladan grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes, and headed over to Gimli with her catch.

"That was not part of our agreement, Buffy, that you would solicit help from someone. You were supposed to do it on your own." Legolas strode over to Buffy, a stern expression on his face.

"Our agreement?" Buffy echoed in amazement. "I certainly didn't agree to that. What I remember happening, is that you walked off in the middle of a lesson, and told me I wouldn't eat if I didn't catch anything. Something I was having trouble doing, if you recall."

Legolas paused, feeling a little guilty for deserting her. Reminding himself of her belligerent attitude, however, he adhered to his earlier resolve. "I have tried to teach you this skill for the past five days. You should be more than proficient at it by now."

Buffy smiled at him cheekily, and sassed, "Maybe Elladan's just a better teacher than you are."

Speechless for a moment, Legolas stood rooted to the spot. "He- _he_ taught you how to-"

Buffy nodded. "Uh-huh. And it only took me a couple of tries." She took the fish off the spear, and Gimli handed her the knife. Going through the motions the Dwarf had taught her, she began to clean the fish and gut it.

"So you _did_ do it yourself," Legolas stated.

"Duh, Captain Obvious!"

During this exchange, Elrohir observed the two closely. Something very odd was going on here, and he was certain he knew what it was. When Elladan joined him, he inquired as to what his brother was staring at.

"Do you see that?" Elrohir asked, nodding toward the arguing pair.

Elladan looked in their direction. "Their mutual attraction? Yes, I see that. I wonder at it too. She is not exactly-"

"No, not that," Elrohir interrupted, somewhat irritated. "Look there," he pointed toward the slight red glow emanating from Legolas' chest and then to Buffy. "And there."

Elladan took a closer look. "_Gwaedh Aer_." He let out an astonished breath. "They have a sacred bond."

"But of what nature? It is not marriage, but it is just as serious a responsibility. What could have brought that about?"

Elladan shrugged. "She shows no outward injury that would have put her in peril of dying. A dangerous thing to do, bonding oneself to a woman one hardly knows."

Elrohir nodded. "And a mortal, at that. No wonder he looked so weary."

The twins headed for the campfire, hungry and ready to eat. They knew without saying it aloud that they both would endeavor to find out as much as they could about this strangely attired young woman who was now under the guardianship of Legolas Thranduilión.

* * *

In the course of the meal, formal introductions had been made. Elladan and Elrohir were presented to Buffy as the sons of Elrond. Buffy was presented as just herself, daughter of Joyce, as requested. Legolas could tell she did not wish her title to be disclosed at this time, though he little understood why. There really was no need for secrecy, especially from two stalwart warriors and friends as these. They would be offering hospitality in Imladris to her along with their father, and the Elf felt that she owed some explanation about her intentions to them. None was forthcoming.

Legolas cast Buffy a meaningful glance that told her they would speak on this matter in private. Buffy did not acknowledge this look, and tried her best to keep to herself. Elladan and Elrohir became even more suspicious of her then, and did nothing to hide it. This did not seem to bother the Slayer, and she excused herself shortly after finishing her food to wash up and take care of some private business by the stream.

When she was out of range, Elrohir turned to Legolas, his grey eyes full of questions. "May I speak plainly, Thranduilión?" At Legolas' nod he continued. "Why do you keep company with such a secretive mortal, and a stranger?"

"It seems very foolhardy," Elladan agreed.

Legolas and Gimli exchanged a glance, and the Dwarf motioned for his friend to speak on their behalf. "We were journeying together through Fangorn. We found her there, alone and lost. She was hostile at first, but we soon were able to reach an understanding, and we have agreed to help her find her way home."

"But who is she? Where does she hail from?" Elrohir stood. "She is dressed most oddly, and her name…I have never heard anything like it."

"As I said before, I can tell you nothing without leave from the lady herself," Legolas replied. "I can only say that she is very far from home. Taken somehow to Fangorn and left there without any knowledge of how or why." The Elf shook his head. "Yes, she is secretive, but she feels she has good reason to be." He met Elrohir's gaze steadily. "But she is not a threat to anyone here."

Elrohir frowned in confusion. "You said she was a warrior, with great strength and skill?"

"What, her?" Elladan laughed in disbelief. "How can one so tiny be any kind of warrior? And so young. I think you may have been deceived, _mellon nín._"

"Do not let her size fool you, Son of Elrond, we have seen her in battle," Gimli countered. "I have lent her an axe since she was left without a weapon. She wields it as if it were a part of her body. Never have I seen anyone fight in the manner she does." The Dwarf shook his head reverently.

"Great she must be, then, if she has left such an impression upon you, Gimli," Elladan stated, his doubt receding a little. "But tell me, how is it that one so accomplished in battle has no means of survival in the wild? She told me you were teaching her these things."

Gimli rolled his eyes, annoyed that he had to talk circles around this subject. It was almost like attempting acrobatics while wearing a full suit of armor. "Where she is from, she has no need of such skills, and please do not question me further!"

"I will try to convince her, _Peredhel_, to tell you her full tale," Legolas assured them. "It will be no easy task, for she is very stubborn. But since we go to your father's house to seek his council, I think she will relent."

Elrohir turned to him in surprise. "To our father's house? What does she want with our father?"

"I…cannot say," Legolas answered uncertainly. "We also seek _Mithrandír_'sadvice as well, if he has come this way, that is."

The twins looked at each other and then back at the Mirkwood Elf. "We have not seen him lately," Elrohir responded. "Though we have been away from home for a fortnight, hunting up and destroying any remaining goblin dens."

Legolas and Gimli nodded. "I thought as much," murmured the Dwarf.

"We can never forget our mother's torment," Elladan's eyes darkened at the memory. "Sauron may be gone, but we will not rest until every one of those foul creatures is routed and wiped from the face of Arda.

Buffy returned then, and the three let the unpleasant subject drop, save for one request.

"If you go to our father's house, perhaps on the way you would like to assist us in our endeavor." Elrohir suggested. Secretly, he yearned to see what this girl could do with an axe against an enemy.

"Aye!" Gimli shouted. "It is always a pleasure to slay orcs, I must say." He smiled at Legolas. "Ready for some competition, friend?"

"Are we killing something?" Buffy inquired. The twins turned to her with curious speculation.

"Not just now, Buffy." Legolas replied. "Elladan and Elrohir are clearing this area of goblins, and wish for us to join them. What say you?"

"I say 'cool'." Buffy stuck her hands in her back pockets. "Though I can't say I'm thrilled at the idea of getting more of that nasty blood on my clothes." She looked down at her ruined sweater.

Elladan snickered. "Women!"

Buffy smirked at him. "Elves!" she shot back. "Well, if nothing needs slaying just now, I'm gonna hit the hay." At the others' confused glances she sighed. "Go to bed, I mean."

"If you wish to, Buffy. But I would speak with you in the morning," Legolas informed her.

"Oh, you would, would you?" Buffy grabbed her bedroll, and spread it out next to the campfire. She lay upon the padding, and drew the thin blanket up to her shoulders, pillowing her head on her arm. "'Night all."

Legolas sighed quietly, looked at the ground and shook his head, hurt by her behavior. Gimli cast a look at the twins as if to say 'see what we mean?' and stood to retrieve his pipe from his pack.

A pair of elegantly booted feet came into Legolas' view, and he lifted his head to see Elrohir regarding him with some scrutiny. He returned the stare questioningly, and turned to see Elladan approaching him as well. He stood warily, glancing from one to the other.

"Is something amiss?" he inquired.

* * *

"_Lûth Echui en Gwaedh Aer_(1)is no trifling spell. You are not a healer, Legolas. How could you be sure it would not harm you?"

"I had no choice, Elladan. She was in an enchanted sleep, from which we could not wake her. It was either that, or let her starve to death."

"I understand, but now what is to happen to you?" Elladan replied, concern lining his fair features. The three elves stood together in a glade, some distance from the campsite.

"What do you mean?"

"The spell is usually only done by a spouse or family member. Possibly a close friend, but only from elf to elf," Elrohir explained. "You have given this mortal a piece of your _fëa_. What will happen to it, to you when she dies?"

Legolas did not speak for a long moment. He had known that in order to save Buffy, he needed to pay a price. The price was a part of himself that would forever be bonded to her. Thus, he would always know her feelings, and she his once she was told of their connection. If he ever told her.

It irked him that the _Peredhel_ could see the link so easily. He did not know it would be at all obvious to anyone, but perhaps Elrond. Legolas had been prepared to face Elrond's censure once they reached Imladris. No doubt they thought him a fool. But he had had no other means with which to help her at the time, and no other spells at his disposal. He had given no thought to his own fate when he performed the spell. He could not regret his decision, and he told them so.

"I did what I had to, in order to save her," he stated quietly.

"She has become very important to you, I see," Elrohir observed.

Legolas' eyes shot to Elrohir's at this statement. He did not answer. How could he, when he himself hardly knew how he felt about the girl? He felt so foolish. Not for having saved her or befriended her, but he was usually so sure of himself, and now he was nearly undone. He could not tell how he really felt about her. Yes, she was important to him, but he did not know why.

"Does she know how you awakened her?" Elladan asked gently, seeing his friend's confusion. "Have you told her of your bond?"

Legolas shook his head. "I have not told her, for I had no wish to burden her with this knowledge. I think if I told her, she would consider it a violation at first, and become angry. Her nature is to keep her feelings and her business closed off from others. She often pretends to be blithe and relaxed, but because of our bond, she cannot fool me. Not only that, but both Gimli and I know her tale. She could not be so casual after all that has happened to her."

"She must have gone through some harrowing trials then, or you would not look as weary as you do," Elladan declared in concern. "This bond has over-burdened you, and you are allowing her to draw too much out of you. This burden should be shared, but not taken on entirely by you."

"And she will not tell us of herself, you say?" Elrohir sounded stern. "She will have to be more open if she expects any assistance from the Lord of Imladris. Times are not as dangerous as they once were, but we cannot allow her into that realm unless she is open. Strangers such as she are held in great mistrust."

"_Adar_ will sense her true nature, whether she is good or evil without having to hear her history, Brother." Elladan countered, seeing Legolas was ready to defend his young friend. He now turned to the Mirkwood Prince, and spoke earnestly. "It will only help her though, if she is open, as Elrohir has said."

"I agree, Elladan. And I will speak to her, but I cannot guarantee-" Legolas' senses went on alert, and the skin on his neck prickled. He felt a stab of fear and confusion, and turned to look toward the campsite to see how Buffy fared.

She was awake, and moving in their direction, her distress clearly written on her face. He could feel the residual panic that usually lingered after she'd had a nightmare, and he felt guilty that he'd been away from her when he could have prevented it.

Hardly aware of what he was doing, Legolas turned his body and reached out a hand to Buffy. She increased her pace, and when she reached him, he drew her into the circle of his arms. As she settled into his embrace, his earlier confusion left him, and he felt whole.

(1)Lit. "Spell (of) Awakening of the Holy Bond"


	21. Chapter 21

A big Thank You to everyone who read, and especially everyone who reviewed. I love to read reviews, they help sustain my life force! **pixie88** don't worry about "going on too long" I love long, indepth reviews, and I'm so glad that my story has touched you in some way that you can be so enthusiastic about it!  
**pen** which "crack" about Buffy's look did you mean? There are a few:)

Happy Fourth everyone. Read, enjoy, and please keep reviewing!

Chapter 21 

It was dark. It was Christmas. No one felt much like celebrating, though. Buffy was in a cave. She hadn't even realized it was December. Maybe when she got home, she could decorate the rubble. Right now, it was stalagmites, stalactites, a sort of dead tree smell and looking for…

Who was she looking for? There was something here. Something really bad. Besides the one she searched for, something else lurked. Something big and…old. Ancient. Her footsteps echoed. _Take a deep breath and close your eyes. Try to focus the senses._

When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in that cave. Looking around, she saw she was in some kind of factory. Buffy started to take a step forward and winced. Her ankle was injured. _Oh yeah, forgot about that_. _Thought it was better, but…no that was someplace else. Some other time. Not here._

Turning, she was back in the cave. _Nothing can grow in this place._ _We won't have a tree this year. Why does evil interfere with holiday fun?_ A scrabbling sound put her on the alert. Her head turned swiftly, following the sound. Nothing.

_Where are all those eyeless, chanting bald guys in robes? This was their major hang out spot last time._ Another noise, and a shadow. Someone running. Buffy carefully made her way through the cave. The pain in her foot was gone. Of course it was. It hadn't been hurt in the first place.

Buffy strode confidently forward. She was the Slayer. There was no need to be shy about it. _Just walk through like you own the place. This is my town_. She stepped on something lying in the dirt.

She bent at the knee to take a look. Her fingers brushed away the dust and came up with a delicate, silver chain with a tiny cross. She let it dangle from her hand and swing in the air. Holding it up, she stood and brushed the dirt from her other hand.

Factory again. _Something's following me. Am I hunting or being hunted?_ The pain was back, and her heart sped up. It was time to run. _Run!_ her insides shouted. She ran, but it was like she had weights chained to her ankles. Suddenly, she was thrown into a wall.

Buffy couldn't see what had attacked her, and she struck out blindly. She couldn't move fast enough. Whatever it was hit her again, and she was down. Lying in the dirt of the cave floor, she rolled over, and her heart nearly stopped. A dead girl lay next to her. Long brown hair. Pretty. Blue sweater. Neck broken.

Up again, Buffy swung her arm, still unable to see what she was fighting. It moved so quickly, as if it could predict her every move. As if it came to her house and listened in on her meetings and training sessions. And she didn't know it for what it was.

A clip to her jaw, and a punch in the gut and she was down again, scrambling for a weapon. Grabbing something metal, she tried to lift it. Too heavy. _Where's that old ingenuity, Buffy? Didn't you used to be clever when you fought? _She kicked out with her foot, sending something crashing down from the factory's ceiling.

Time to run again. _It's not slowing down, but I am._ It had her by the neck now, and it used her as a wrecking ball, sending her crashing through a concrete wall.

She lay under rubble and debris. Blood trickled down her cheeks. Buffy's eyes were closed once more, and from under the pile she heard her friends' panicked voices.

"Buffy!" Xander called. She heard metal scrape against metal, weight being lifting off of her battered and bruised body. It took forever for them to dig her out. Willow and Giles sounded scared, and Xander just kept on tearing away at the wreckage. At last, cool air washed over her face, and a warm hand checked for a pulse on her neck. She heard him sigh in relief.

"She's alive."

Feeling safe, Buffy gradually opened her eyes. She reached out a hand to Xander, but when he came into focus, she screamed.

Buffy sat up abruptly, breathing hard, and sweating. Her heart raced, and she couldn't remember where she was for a few minutes. She focused on the sputtering campfire and got her bearings. She had not had a nightmare in such a long time. Not since…Buffy looked around for Legolas, but he was not nearby. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she covered her eyes with her palms but withdrew them immediately.

If she closed her eyes, then she saw…it. Whatever it was she had been fighting in her dream. It was like nothing she'd ever seen before. Its skin was utterly white with black veins weaving underneath it. Small evil eyes glared at her in malicious joy from the middle of black circles, and black lips curled back to reveal mangled fangs and bloody gums.

Its wrinkled brow and nose formed the familiar vampire features, but this was something older, something primitive. Something normal vampires were afraid of. Buffy didn't know how she knew this, but know it, she did. Deep in her bones, she could feel its evilness like a disease. Her dream had shown her its strength. She couldn't fight it.

Shaking her head hard as if to rid herself of her vision and the fear that lingered, she stood. Voices sounded in the night above the din of crickets and Gimli's snoring. Low and melodic, they spoke in the flowing language that Buffy now recognized as Elvish.

Looking further afield, she saw the glowing forms of the three elves some distance away. They looked to be having a heated discussion, and Buffy was loathe to interrupt. But for some reason, when Legolas was near her, she did not have these horrible dreams. She needed the comfort only he seemed to be able to provide.

Disregarding her earlier feelings of annoyance with Legolas, she started walking towards him. She saw that he had been looking her way, and had taken a few steps in her direction, his hand outstretched, as if he knew what she needed from him. Buffy quickened her pace, not wanting to seem desperate, but feeling it all the same.

As she drew nearer, their eyes locked. His blue ones were full of concern, and she ran to him. He drew her into an embrace, and Buffy felt safe enough to close her eyes, burrowing into his warmth, breathing in his scent. It was like rain on trees, she thought, fresh and vibrant and green. A small part of her mind was disturbed at how familiar he'd become to her in such a short time. Where she usually held most people at a distance, Buffy wanted to bring him closer. It frightened her, and she slowly pulled away after a few moments.

Buffy glanced at the two newcomers to their party, embarrassed at having made such a public display, especially in front of virtual strangers. They looked back at her, their fair faces grim with concern, but not necessarily for her, she thought. Legolas put a hand on her shoulder, and she turned back to him.

"What is wrong, Buffy?" he asked softly.

Feeling like a four-year old, she answered "I…I had a nightmare. I haven't had one in awhile, and it kind of freaked me out."

Legolas' lips tightened, and he seemed angry for a moment, but he softened a second later. "I am sorry, Buffy. I should have been with you."

"Why?" she asked, bewildered. "It's not your job to be my bedtime friend," hearing herself, she flushed and tried to cover. "I mean, you know, you seem to hang around me a lot when I sleep and I don't have bad dreams when you're there, and I'm not implying that there's anything more than that going on, and I'm going to stop talking now."

The twins each raised a brow at her almost indecipherable babble, but neither of them showed any sign of laughing, and Buffy once again felt some kind of disapproval emanating from the two. Silence reigned, and when that happened, Buffy just couldn't keep her mouth shut. Especially when her back was up, which it now was, due to the current atmosphere of frowniness.

"So, I'm guessing I interrupted some really important discussion." Buffy took on a challenging stance and stared back at the twins with equal disdain. "You guys making some late night Elf plans? Gonna sneak into someone's house and make shoes tonight?"

A long pause ensued as the elves stared at Buffy and each other, very perplexed. Buffy immediately felt sheepish, seeing as her little joke had fallen flat. "Guess that's not a story you guys heard, growing up." She cleared her throat, and turned to Legolas seeking help.

Legolas only half-smiled, a wicked gleam in his eye. "Are the elves primarily shoemakers in the place where you are from, Buffy?"

Buffy frowned up at him in bafflement. "No, I told you, we don't have any elves in my wor-" she stopped short of confessing that she was from a completely different world, and corrected herself. "My town. We don't have any elves in my town." She stated with as much conviction as she could muster to the twins. She turned back to Legolas and mouthed "Nice try."

"Where do you hail from, then Buffy, daughter of Joyce? We much desire to know," Elrohir asked, crossing his arms and doing his best to intimidate her.

It only made Buffy more irritated. "That's for me to know, and you to find out when I feel like telling you," she snapped.

Legolas placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Buffy," he admonished. "You have no reason for speaking to him thusly. The sons of Elrond are friends and can be trusted. You are going to receive their father's aid, do not cast aside their offer of friendship."

"If I see an offer of friendship, I'll grab it," Buffy retorted. "So far it's mostly 'who are you and where do you come from?' and a whole lot of posturing that's on the table."

Elladan cleared his throat. "Forget not that I helped you to catch your meal, lady."

Somewhat abashed, Buffy turned to the nicer twin conceded his point. "But you're both still making with the suspicious glaring, and that hardly gives me the warm fuzzies."

Both twins stared at her with incomprehension for a moment before Elrohir spoke again. "You exaggerated not, Thranduilión, when you said she spoke oddly. It is near to impossible to understand her." He smirked as Buffy threw him a dirty look and added, "I wonder if you exaggerated though, when praising her skills as a warrior earlier."

Buffy whirled around to face Legolas, her eyes wide. "You have such a big mouth! What did you tell them that for?"

Legolas shrugged, unmoved by her irritation. "I saw no reason not to. I had to tell them something of you."

"No, you didn't!" She stepped closer to Legolas lowering her voice to an extremely low whisper. "I do not just blab my 'chosen' status to every Tom, Dick and Elfie!"

"Chosen?"

"Elfie?"

Buffy, having momentarily forgotten the elves' ability to hear a frog hiccup halfway across the world, rolled her eyes and muttered, "Damn elves." She turned to face the twins again. "Look, it's not that I don't trust you, it's just that I have the feeling that I'm going to have to repeat my story to a whole lotta people, and I don't want to keep rehashing it. When we get to your dad's house, you can hear the whole thing, okay?"

"We already know a few things, child, so you may as well tell us a little more so we may understand you better," Elrohir looked a little smug when he saw how being called a 'child' rankled Buffy.

"Like what?" she challenged.

"Like you come from a place that is unheard of in these parts," Elladan contributed. "That you have no need of fishing, hunting and camping where you come from."

"You are secretive and stubborn, have a strong will and are unafraid to stand up to and accept a challenge." Elrohir began to circle her slowly, looking her up and down.

"Your dress and speech is very strange and off-putting." Elladan began to circle the other way.

"You do not know how to ride a horse, therefore you must have no need for that skill."

"You have good reason to guard your secrets, but you have an unmistakable air of goodness."

"You have been through harrowing trials that would test the strongest heart."

"You have strength beyond that of a normal mortal, and fighting skills, and you have been chosen for something very important."

"You awoke in Fangorn Forest, of all places, without any recollection of having gone there. You were alone and unarmed with no supplies of your own."

"You fight in a manner that has been unseen by either Legolas or Gimli, and they have seen much."

Buffy was beginning to get dizzy, not to mention royally pissed off. If they didn't stop walking around her in circles, she was going to explode. At last, they stopped again where they had started, but not before dropping two bombs.

"You share a unique bond with Legolas of Mirkwood."

"And your hair seems to be changing color at the roots."

At this, Buffy's hand flew up to the top of her head as if to cover the evidence of her natural hair color. Then the remark that was made before the crack about her hair resurfaced in her mind, and she frowned in puzzlement. "I have a bond?" She looked back at Legolas, whose expression was unreadable. "There's no bond. I'm totally bond-free." She suddenly remembered their hugging action and attempted to explain.

"Oh, you mean because I-I hugged him, well that was just because, um-" _Think, Buffy, think_ she berated herself. "Actually, that's none of your business," she stated with an air perky confidence.

Elrohir eyes flicked to those of Legolas and back to Buffy's. "I suppose not," he murmured thoughtfully.

"A-and neither is any of the other stuff you said. Do you guys have some sort of nightclub act? If you can read minds, then you really ought to go on the road. You'd make a bundle."

"We do not need to read your mind, as you say. If we could, we would already know everything about you, and we would not be having this tiresome discussion." Elladan retorted, quite weary of this girl's obstinance. "We are merely telling you what we observe."

"As well as what Legolas told us of you."

"Peace, _mellyn,_ I beg of you. If Buffy does not wish to say aught of herself, then we cannot force her," Legolas interjected.

"Damn straight," Buffy uttered, and she headed back toward camp, also tired of this discussion. Legolas turned to follow her, wanting to make sure her sleep was not disturbed again this night.

"Perhaps, we cannot _force_ her," Elladan said to their retreating backs. They stopped and turned, wary of his crafty tone. Elladan looked at his twin with a twinkle in his eye. "But if we held a sort of contest-"

"One of us against her," Elrohir added, understanding his brother's mind immediately.

"And perhaps if we set stakes," Elladan continued.

"Such as if we win, she tells us all-"

"And if she wins she keeps her silence until we reach Imladris-"

"Then perhaps we may resolve this matter." Elrohir finished.

Buffy stared at them for an instant, then shook her head. "Anyone ever tell you that twins completing each other's sentences is just plain creepy?" she quipped. When she got no response, she gazed at them in interest. "What kind of contest?"

"How are you with a bow and arrow?" Elrohir asked.

"Pretty damn good," Buffy answered.

"And with the sword?" asked Elladan

"Pretty damn good."

"Which one do you prefer?"

Buffy thought for a moment. "Well, I have the feeling that if I picked the bow and arrow, you guys would probably set a target about a million miles away that only you could see with your super-elf sight. I think I'll stick with the sword, if I can borrow one." She glanced at Legolas hopefully.

He shook his head. "I do not carry a sword, else I would lend it to you." He paused, frowning. "As long as you did not use it for-"

Buffy clapped a hand over his mouth. "Not a problem, since you don't have one." They stood for a moment, staring at each other, Buffy's hand still over Legolas' mouth. A warm shiver went through Buffy as she realized how intimate the pose was, and she slowly took her hand away. The moisture from his lips lingered on her palm like a kiss. Legolas continued to stare at her as Buffy turned shyly away, closing her hand tightly.

"You may borrow one of our swords, I suppose," Elrohir drawled. "As soon as you choose which of us you wish to be at the mercy of."

Buffy raised a challenging eyebrow. "I think it's going to be the other way around. Let's see, do I want Tweedle-dee or Tweedle-dum?" She looked at Elrohir first and then Elladan. Her eyes slid back to Elrohir and she grinned. "I think I'll have me a slice of Tweedle-dee."

"I suppose that makes me Tweedle-dum," Elladan growled. "Be careful with my sword, girl, or you'll regret it." He reached for his sword's hilt, and it sang as he drew it from its scabbard.

Buffy stared at the weapon. It was beautiful. She took it from Elladan's hand reverently as he handed to her. Turning it this way and that, she examined the silver blade in the light cast by the elves. Holding it close to her face, she could make out engravings in a flowing script that she could not read. She looked up at Elladan. "What does it say?"

Elladan paused before answering. "It says (1)_Ne rîn uin baul emil nîn, Degin le_."

Buffy tilted her head in curiosity. "What's that mean?"

Elladan smirked. "That's for me to know, and you to find out when I feel like telling you."

Buffy grinned ruefully and nodded. She turned to Legolas. "You should probably go wake Gimli up."

"Why is that?" asked Legolas.

"Because he's going to want to watch as I kick this elf's ass."

(1)You'll find out what this means when Buffy does! Unless you speak Sindarin, that is.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

All they could see at first was a thick, velvety blackness. Gradually, pinpoints of light began to wink and shine out against the dark, and they multiplied, some forming different patterns. A night sky took shape before their eyes, and the image stayed unchanged for quite some time. Almost imperceptively, the picture began to rotate very slowly, showing them the vastness of the universe stretching before them. All were silent, nothing but their quiet breathing and the furious scribbling of Wesley's pen disturbing the peace.

Everyone jumped as Cordy slurped on her Big Gulp. Angel turned to glare at her over his shoulder. "There was a reason why I wanted to do this alone," he intoned darkly.

"What?" Cordy asked defensively. "We've been looking at nothing but stars and sky for the past five minutes. It's like a trip to the planetarium, only without the cheesy sound effects."

"Oh, I used to love goin' there on field trips!" Fred exclaimed. "It felt like you were really out in space."

"Well, I guess that's where Buffy is, since that's all we're getting from this doo-hickey," Cordy surmised. "Floating around in the ether, looking down on us all from high above on her Slayer pedestal. So glad we risked our necks to get this thing so we could find out what we'd already guessed," she added sarcastically.

"What, that she's gone back to heaven?" Fred whispered, awestruck by the idea.

"Cordelia, that isn't necessarily the case," Wesley uttered dryly, his pen still scratching over his notepad. "A location spell would have revealed the whereabouts of her body even if her soul had left it. Nothing turned up after several attempts. This would indicate that-"

"That she went body _and_ soul into another dimension, blah, blah, blah." Cordelia finished in a weary manner. Poking her chewed-up straw around the remnants of her ice and soda, she added fiercely, "You know this is just like her. Disappearing without a trace, and making us all crazy trying to find her. This isn't the first time, you know." Her eyes focused sympathetically on the vampire's back. "Poor Angel's all glowery again, just when he was starting to get over her death. Then she ups and returns to life and we're all doing a happy dance, and now she does _this_!"

Wesley stopped writing, and turned to censure Cordelia. "Buffy's return to life was not her doing, and I strongly suspect-"

An exasperated voice broke into the argument. "There was a reason I wanted to do this alone!" Wesley and Cordy fell silent, and Angel sighed. He scanned the night sky again. He really had wanted to perform the ceremony alone, but one by one the people of Angel Investigations found reasons to be with him.

Wesley insisted that he should be present, since Angel couldn't recite the Ancient Greek text necessary for the ritual to awaken the Axis. It required a more than adequate fluency in the dead language, and the vampire hadn't exactly been studying up on it lately, if ever.

Cordelia wanted to provide her unique brand of moral support, since it was possible that Angel might see something horrible happening to Buffy. He'd need a friend to keep him grounded, and Cordy was perfect for the job, and Angel was secretly glad to have her with him.

Fred was terrified that Buffy had gotten sucked into Pylea, like she herself had so many years ago. Countless others had, so why not this oddly-named girl, Buffy? Even though things were changing for humans in that dimension, she wanted to be on hand to help get her out of there, if she could. Angel had done so much for her already, and this girl was important to him. She felt the least she could do was to offer assistance.

Gunn was just plain curious to see for himself what this Slayer named Buffy was like. The idea of a girl being the PTB's chosen warrior intrigued him, and from what he'd heard about Buffy, she was one amazing kick-ass woman. Hey, anybody who would skewer Angel, the vamp she loved, in the gut and send him to hell in order to save the world was alright by him. Much as he liked and respected Angel, something like that took balls of steel.

So they all watched as the ritual was performed. Angel scattered the strange herbs in front of the Axis. He lit them aflame as Wesley chanted the incantation. The herbs burned, but extraordinarily the small table on which they turned to char did not.

Angel picked up a vial of goat's blood and poured it onto the dancing flames, quenching them. The smoke that arose filled the hotel room, and the lights, which had only been dimmed, suddenly went out. When the smoke cleared, two thin white lines shot up like laser beams from the top of the Axis. They flickered for a moment and then began to move away from each other in a v shape. They grew wider and wider apart, until they rested horizontally, creating a black half-circle between them.

The shape just seemed like an empty void, almost as if they could step into it, and land in whatever place it was showing them. But Wesley had put a hand up to it, and it just went through, the image becoming a little more transparent, so everyone could see his appendage waving around, still in this dimension. When Wesley withdrew his hand, the image became more solid again.

Now they stared at a night sky, and just as Angel was beginning to feel like they'd broken the Axis somehow, the tops of trees appeared. The picture panned down like a movie camera over dark, green fields lined with trees and boulders on one side. A vast landscape of rolling hills and distant mountains loomed before them.

A familiar and somewhat disheveled blond head came into view. A young woman in a sweater and jeans stood with her back to the group. Wesley, Cordy and Angel simultaneously leaned forward as the figure turned to face them. They let out a collective gasp.

"Buffy!" Angel whispered.

"So _that's_ her," Fred and Gunn said simultaneously. They exchanged an amused glance.

"She's pretty," Fred said softly.

"Yeah, not bad, Angel," Gunn offered.

"She looks to be in good health," Wesley observed, trying to reassure the vampire.

"Are you kidding? She looks horrible!" Cordelia exclaimed. Ignoring Wesley's frown, the former Queen of Sunnydale High prattled on. "It looks like she hasn't showered for days, and check out her skin. That girl never did learn to moisturize properly, and now see what that gets you when you're nowhere near a Neiman Marcus." Cordy shook her head.

"We don't know that," said Gunn flippantly. "Maybe she landed in a dimension full of department stores, and it's driven her insane, 'cause she can't decide which one to go to."

No one responded as they were busy watching Buffy, who was looking at something they could not see. Her eyes were wide, and she was trembling. The Slayer hugged herself, and bit her lip, seeming to be debating something within herself. She suddenly came to a decision, and started to walk briskly toward them.

The picture swiveled, and now the group could see what Buffy saw. Three glowing figures standing in the distance. Fred leaned forward and squinted, trying to make out what they were. Gunn did likewise, and a thought dawned on him.

"Hey, could those be…" he felt almost silly for thinking it, so he didn't complete his question.

"Angels?" Fred finished for him, obviously thinking the same thing.

"Well, Mr. Giles said she'd gone to a heavenly dimension," Wesley conceded, watching as Buffy drew closer to the figures.

"You'd think heaven would have higher standards," Cordy uttered sardonically. At Angel's derisive glare, she amended her statement. "I _meant_ they'd clean her up. Who wants the unwashed entering the Pearly Gates?"

"Maybe she was waiting around in some sort of holding place, and those people are there to take her to… heaven," Wesley theorized somewhat lamely. The idea of heaven being a real place still flummoxed him. He gave a silent snort, thinking how ironic that was, since he knew that numerous hells existed.

"What, like a mud-wrestling dimension?" Cordy responded unbelievingly.

Angel shook his head. "Spike told Giles that Buffy had said she didn't have any form where she was."

"Why did she tell Spike about it, anyway?" Cordelia asked in puzzlement.

"Who's Spike?" Fred and Gunn asked simultaneously, yet again, and they snickered.

"Okay, the brain sharing between you two has to end, 'cause that's getting annoying," Cordelia muttered.

"Yes it is," Wesley added under his breath.

Buffy was now running toward one of the figures, which were turning out to look like tall, long-haired men. Two had dark hair and one was blond. The blond one turned to her, and opened his arms. Buffy ran into them, and embraced him. The man put his arms about her, and rested his head atop hers. They stayed like that for a long moment, and then Buffy pulled away, looking a little embarrassed. The group in the hotel sat in stunned silence for a few minutes.

"Well, I guess they're friendly," Fred remarked.

"Very friendly," Gunn added.

"And _hot_!" That was Cordy.

Wesley, Gunn and Angel all turned to her, but she did not return their stares. Cordy walked forward toward the image, mesmerized. "_Look _at them," she looked from one figure to another. "I would willingly die for hair like that."

Fred walked up to the image as well, studying these strange creatures Buffy was now conversing with. "They're beautiful," she whispered reverently.

"Pretty boys," Gunn muttered sullenly.

"Their clothes are beautiful, too." Cordelia pointed, suddenly. "Look! I think those two are twins!"

"Oooh!" exclaimed Fred, taking a closer look.

"Double _my_ pleasure," Cordelia giggled suggestively, and Fred joined in. Cordy watched a moment longer, and then pouted. "It figures," she carped. "Buffy gets sucked into another dimension with glowy and cuddly hot guys, and I get the one with the nasty demons who call me a cow and sell me into slavery."

"They did make you a princess," Gunn offered in hesitant consolation.

"After torturing me," Cordelia shot back. "Then they tried to kill me."

"I can definitely sympathize with you there," Fred said sadly. "But you did meet the Groosalug," she added positively.

"Yeah," Cordy smiled, thinking of her champion in Pylea. Her expression turned gloomy after a second. "I'll never see him again, though."

"They're probably gay," Angel crossed his arms, not liking the reaction of the women to these men.

"Groo is _not _gay!" Cordelia snapped angrily.

"I mean these glowy guys," he gestured to the tableau irritably.

"Oh," she glanced at the picture again. "But the twins have swords."

"So? Gay men can use swords," Angel came back with, his tone that of a twelve-year old boy. "There's no rule that says they can't."

"I don't think they're men…exactly," Wesley was now close to the image and gazing very intently at the beings.

"They're he-she's?" Gunn's eyebrows shot up.

"No," Wesley replied. "Take a look at their ears."

Everyone looked. "They're pointy!" said Fred excitedly.

"Ha! I knew it! Fairies," Angel crowed triumphantly, but received contemptuous glares from the women.

Only Gunn was watching the interaction now, and they all turned back to it when they heard him mutter, "Uh-oh." The twins were circling Buffy, looking at her appraisingly, and Buffy did not appear to be enjoying it one bit.

"Looks like we're having a bit of a stand-off," Cordy observed and set down her drink. "Oh, you can totally tell she's getting all uppity about being the Slayer," she said with a mocking gesture.

Wesley sent Cordy a quelling glance, and she rolled her eyes and shrugged, watching the blond guy try to make peace between the two parties. Blondie and Buffy turned and started to walk away, when something the twins were saying stopped them, and they turned back.

They all jumped when one the strange men drew a sword, but he only handed it to Buffy, who took it respectfully, and examined the blade. Wesley ran back to his chair, making an excited grab for his pen and notepad. It was gone. He looked up to see Angel making a sketch of the face of the blond elf.

"Angel, do you see the writing on that sword?" He pointed eagerly to the flowing script now visible in the light emanating from the three beings. "Copy that down if you can."

"On it," Angel replied, now concentrating on the strange writing.

"You ever seen that before, Wes?" Gunn inquired.

Wesley shook his head. "I'll have to see if I can find anything like it in the texts we have here."

The four people in the picture started walking toward another location. A campsite, by the looks of it. A fire struggled to stay lit and two bedrolls lay close by. One seemed to have a big lump on top of it. Three horses and a pony stood by the trees, grazing. Only the pony wore a saddle. Near the animals, a few rucksacks sat on the ground, and a makeshift spear was propped up against a tree.

The twins went to one side of the fire, conferring with each other, and Buffy went to the other side stretching and doing a few practice moves with the sword. Blondie approached the campfire, and stirred it back to life, then walked over to the sleeping figure, and shook it roughly. A red-haired man with a long, bushy beard sat up, and he did not seem very happy at being awakened. His attitude changed quickly when the blond seemed to be explaining something to him. He laughed, clapped his hands together and rubbed them, and stood up laboriously. He was at least three feet shorter than the glowy guys.

"There you go, Angel, a short, hairy guy," Cordelia smirked. "Guess Buffy doesn't feel so short with him around."

"If I know my Snow White, and I think I do, I'd say that was a real live dwarf," Fred stated.

"I think you're right, Fred," Wesley agreed with a grin.

Angel was now done with the letters, and was back to sketching the pointy-eared guys. Wesley peeked over Angel's shoulder to study the foreign characters the vampire had copied. He could not decipher them. He had seen many different alphabets, some used by humans, some used by otherworldly creatures. These were altogether different from anything else. They intrigued him, they flowed together so beautifully. His hands itched to be turning the pages of his voluminous texts downstairs in the office.

"Do you mind, Wes? I'm working here," Angel grumbled, his eyes flicking up at the images and back down to his work on the page.

"Sorry, sorry." Wesley backed away, and saw that everyone's attention was still on the mysterious dimension silently displayed before them. Something very interesting was going on. Buffy and one of the twins stood facing each other in the middle of the group. The other twin stood behind his brother, and the blond and the dwarf positioned themselves close to Buffy.

The two in the middle each had swords in hand, but down at their sides. Blondie and the unarmed twin stepped forward and they all began to converse. It looked as if they were working out some kind of rules for whatever they were about to do.

"Hey, how come we don't get sound on this thing?" Gunn complained.

"Well, it's not like it came from Circuit City, Gunn, it's an ancient power. It doesn't get five point one surround sound." Wesley replied dryly.

"Yeah, but look at the picture. Nice, flat screen. If it's wired for cable, I'm taking this baby home."

"Speaking of home, are we done here?" Cordelia glanced around at the group. "She doesn't look like she's in any trouble, and we've got some particulars about this place. We've got enough to go on, right?" When no one responded, she saw that their gazes were suddenly riveted to the tableau. "I for one have had enough of 'The Buffy Show'."

"Except now they're having a sword fight," Gunn darted past where Cordelia was standing to get a seat on the floor and a better view.

Cordy looked up and rolled her eyes. "Way to make nice with the locals, there, Buff."

"I don't think it's exactly an unfriendly sword fight," Wesley countered. "It looks to be a challenge. A testing of skills. Perhaps they set stakes, but I don't believe any blood will be drawn."

Fred, Angel, Gunn and Wesley sat on the floor watching the fight unfold. Cordelia stood awkwardly for a moment, and then sighed. "Make room for me," she told Fred.

* * *

"I tend to make my own rules when I fight," Buffy stated to the elves. They were trying to establish some ground rules for the duel. Since this was not a fight to the death, there were to be no attempts at serious stabbing or beheading, but they could draw blood.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Elrohir drawled.

"Let's just make 'em simple: first one to say 'uncle' loses." Buffy suggested.

"Uncle?" Elladan echoed in puzzlement.

"Meaning, 'I give up,'" Buffy explained. "Or in your case, 'Please, please stop hurting me!'"

Legolas turned to Buffy, somewhat concerned. He knew she was skilled and pretty fearless, but Elrohir had been alive for centuries, and had been trained to the sword since he was an elfling. "Are you sure you want to do this, Buffy?"

"Sure as sugar," she replied perkily.

Legolas smiled at her strange speech, and grasped her shoulders in encouragement. "Good luck, then." He stared at her for a moment, deliberating. "You know well that you could have avoided all this if-"

"If I had just given in, in the first place, I know. Well, too late now!" Buffy extended her arm toward Legolas and awkwardly searched for an appropriate reciprocal gesture. Finding none, she found herself touching his cheek. Legolas started slightly at the contact at first, but then smiled at her again. Liquid heat went through Buffy's lower body, and the place where their skin touched began to heat up. She flushed, finding herself in an intimate pose with the elf for the second time that night.

"If you two are quite finished…" came a mocking voice from behind her.

Buffy blushed even redder, and she withdrew her hand without jerking it back, so as not to give offense to her friend. She turned around slowly, a cocky grin on her face.

"Kicking your ass is going to be so much fun, Tweedle-dee."

* * *

The fight started out simply enough, with some simple fencing moves. They parried and thrusted and blocked each other's blows, dancing in a straight line back and forth for a long time. Buffy got the idea that Elrohir was just testing the waters, feeling her out to see what level she was at.

Truly, Buffy wasn't sure what to expect. Legolas had told her that Elrohir had centuries of experience with the sword, not to mention all the cool elf upgrades the gods had seen fit to bless him with, so this was a good pace to begin at.

It was almost a sedate and very polite dance, and certainly beautiful to watch. But Buffy was getting a little bit bored with it, and wanted to kick things up a notch. She attacked with a flurry of strokes, trying to throw Elrohir off, but he was ready for her, blocking and ducking what she thought would be surprise moves. He grinned at her smugly, and her ire went up. Grabbing her sword with two hands, she switched techniques, going from fencing to a medieval style she and Giles had updated last year to fit her particular needs and personality.

Elrohir frowned, put off by this sudden change. "You cannot do that," he complained.

"Apparently I can," Buffy shot back, and she forced him back several large steps with the power of her blows. Elrohir compensated for the change, and did likewise, holding his sword two-handed. It took him no time at all to adjust, and he was soon driving Buffy backwards towards an outcropping of rocks.

Reaching the rocks, she went back to holding her sword one-handed, using the other arm to keep her balance. The rocks served as stairs, and she climbed up them blindly, as she fended off Elrohir's sword.

He followed her up, and they reached a large, flat-topped boulder with a few thick branches from the trees next to it hanging low over their heads. Buffy and Elrohir ducked among the branches, now back to the two-handed hold. Buffy tucked and rolled past Elrohir, and now he was the one going backward. She had gained the advantage, and she drove Elrohir to the edge of the boulder where there was only a sheer drop to the ground.

Striking fiercely, Buffy thought she had him just where she wanted him. When she went for the blow that would send him over the edge, their swords locked, and they struggled for dominance. Using the pressure created by their interlocked weapons, Elrohir turned them, and with a shove, sent Buffy flying flat onto her back. She lost her grip on her sword, and it went skidding across the rock and dropped down to pierce the ground below.

Elrohir approached casually, one hand on his hip, and the other pointing his sword teasingly at Buffy. "Do you yield, girl?"

Not deigning to answer him, she kicked her legs up in the air, and flipped from her back to her feet. Smirking at the surprised elf, she said, "'Scuse me, I've always wanted to try this."

With that, she turned and took a running leap toward a sturdy branch that hung parallel to the ground. She grabbed it with her hands, and swung two complete rotations before letting go and turning a double somersault, landing squarely on her feet next to her sword.

Pulling it out of the ground, she smiled cheekily up at the glowering elf, and called up to him, "Come on down, elfie, this fight's far from over!"

"Indeed," Elrohir muttered, realizing that this girl had more pluck than sense. He hopped onto the branch, and leaped from limb to limb until he reached the ground. He raised his sword, and the duel commenced.

The other three watched and followed the pair, as they took their fight all over the campsite. The group at Angel Investigations cheered Buffy on, especially when some of them recognized the move from _The Princess Bride_.

The fight became fiercer, more intense as the two battled for dominance. Elrohir was strong, and more experienced with the sword, and he gained the advantage over Buffy more often than not. But Buffy was crafty, and very famous for being able to take sticky situations and turning them to her favor.

Angel's heart experienced a pang as a familiar scene unfolded before him. Elrohir had once again disarmed Buffy, and she sat seemingly defenseless against a tree trunk. Buffy watched as he quickly approached, asking "Do you yield?" right before thrusting the point of the sword toward her face. In the blink of an eye, Buffy caught the blade between her palms, and used that control to shove the handle of the sword into the elf's face.

Startled, he stumbled backward, and she took the opportunity to jump-kick him in the chin. Gaining momentum, she turned and kicked out again sideways, this time striking him in the chest with the flat of her foot.

He lost his balance, which gave Buffy enough time to retrieve her sword, and they continued on into the night. "You can take that as a 'no'," she replied.

Buffy began employing her trademark street fighting that she used on her nightly patrols, and Elrohir ducked and swerved so fluently to avoid the blows, that Buffy barely had time to regroup and form a new plan of attack. She even had him pinned at one point, but he threw her over his head, and she rolled on the ground. Only just picking herself up, he was at her again, and it took her a moment to get her bearings before she could really give as good as she got.

Neither was willing to admit defeat. Each setback only proved to fuel the fire, and the two warriors seemed equally matched. As the night waned on, their companions lost enthusiasm for the sport, and went a short distance away to sit at the campfire and watch from afar.

Back in Los Angeles, Fred had fallen asleep on Gunn's shoulder. Even Gunn was beginning to lose interest, where before he had been thrilled to see these two battle it out. Wesley was checking his watch periodically, seeing hours go by as the battle continued. Cordelia was grabbing her purse and heading for the door.

"I'm off, guys. I need my rest. I'm exhausted just watching them. I can't believe they haven't just called it a night." She glanced back at the image and noted the approaching dawn. "Or a day." She exited the room and headed downstairs.

Gunn glanced at Fred, and put one arm around her shoulders, and the other beneath her knees and stood up. "I think I need to put Sleeping Beauty to bed," he said, and he left the room as well.

Wesley watched them go, and frowned, clearing his throat. "Yes, well. I think we can safely assume that Buffy is not in any real danger where she is, Angel. I think I'll go and start looking through the texts and-"

Abruptly and without turning, Angel passed the notepad to Wesley over his shoulder. "I'm gonna watch for a little while longer," he told the former Watcher.

Wesley smiled humorlessly in understanding and nodded. He found the page where the letters had been sketched, and walked out the door, studying them.

"I want to see her smile before we turn this off," Angel said to no one in particular. "Then I'll know she's okay."

* * *

Both Buffy and Elrohir were starting to tire at last. The sun was peeking over the horizon, and Elladan and Legolas sat on the ground by the dying fire looking incredibly bored. Gimli had fallen asleep sitting up, and was snoring loudly.

Buffy and Elrohir had abandoned their swords, and were now doing hand-to-hand combat. They dodged and blocked each other's blows, unable to break out of their deadlock.

"Enough!" called Elladan, and Legolas echoed his plea. "Enough, brother. I think it is fair to say it is a draw."

"You need rest, Buffy, and we will lose half a day's travel if you do not stop this now," Legolas counseled his young friend.

"Whaddaya think?" Buffy breathed between ducking punches. "Want to throw in the towel, call it a tie?"

"I am getting weary of this stalemate," Elrohir replied, catching her foot before it struck his face, and trying to push her off balance.

Buffy used that resistance to swing her other leg up, clipping Elrohir in the chin, and executing a backward flip. "I guess we could figure out some other way to resolve this." She crouched and stuck out her leg, sweeping his feet from under him.

With an 'oof', Elrohir landed on his back, but he was up in an instant, and going on the offensive with a few well placed blows to her stomach. "Do you mean in a way that does not involve violence?" he asked.

Buffy recovered quickly, but found herself on the defensive again, leaning back to avoid a punch, and then ducking Matrix-like from the ones that followed. "Yeah, I think that's a better bet."

"Only if you show me how you did that running on air move," he stated as a condition, and got an elbow in the face for it.

"Sure," Buffy conceded. "And maybe you can teach me some of your nifty sword techniques." She was forced to bend down, as her arm was wrenched behind her and over her head. "That is, if you have the time." She swung back up, and flipped the elf to the ground.

"Certainly," he agreed, and struck out with his foot to bring Buffy crashing down beside him. They both lay on their backs, breathing hard, exhausted.

"So, are we stopping?" Buffy gasped.

"We are stopping," Elrohir flung an arm over his eyes and grunted.

Legolas, Elladan, and a now awake Gimli came over to help them up.

"It's a tie," Buffy told them.

"We know," said Legolas as he pulled Buffy to a sitting position.

"Then how are we to resolve the issue?" Gimli asked. "Perhaps a game of riddles is in order."

"Really not," Buffy responded.

"Then how?" Elladan was gripping his brother's hand and helping him to stand.

Buffy sat on the ground, thinking for a moment. Suddenly, she looked up with an impish expression. "I've got an idea."

* * *

Angel shook his head, seeing the battle end with no winner. The man she fought was clearly accomplished in his own right, and had a strength that matched Buffy's somewhat. Buffy was able to get out of situations where she was at a disadvantage, though, and that was part of what made her a great Slayer.

The combatants shook hands, and then the group spoke some more. Buffy talked for a long spell, gesturing with her hands and explaining something. Angel studied what her hands did, trying to see if she was describing some sort of fighting technique. Her opponent did likewise with his hand, and looked to Buffy for affirmation. She nodded, and talked again.

Both Buffy and her challenger put one hand behind their backs. Buffy nodded her head three times, and each brought their hands to the front, forming different shapes with the fingers. Buffy's two fingers were extended, and the challenger's hand was in a fist. Angel frowned, and then laughed.

"Rock, paper, scissors?"


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

"Oh come on! Best two out of three!" Buffy implored the unwavering elf.

"I have said no to your request three times, that should be enough for you to stop persisting," replied Elrohir. "I won your silly game, and now you have to pay the price."

"But that's how it's done," Buffy rationalized. "You flip a coin, or you do rock, paper, scissors, it's always two out of three tries."

"You did not explain that when you told us the rules," Elladan finished polishing his sword, and returned it to its scabbard. He looked up at Buffy expectantly, and she finally ran out of steam.

"Fine," she conceded. "Fine, I'll tell you, but…do I have to do it right this second? I'm beat."

The twins exchanged a glance, and Elladan shrugged. "As long as you tell us a small part of your story right now, we will leave you in peace."

"For the moment," Elrohir added.

Buffy blew out a loud sigh, and leaned her head back, swiveling at the neck to look at Legolas. She was trying to think of something inconsequential that wouldn't raise too many questions, when the blonde elf opened his big mouth.

"Why not tell them where you are from?"

Buffy stared at him in disbelief. "That's the most complicated thing of all! I was thinking more along the lines of my shoe size, or my favorite ice cream."

"No, I think I would rather know where you are from," Elrohir grinned and inclined his head to Legolas.

Elladan piped up. "I as well would-"

"Yeah, I get it!" Buffy threw up her hands in exasperation. "Great minds think alike, huh?"

"Best tell them your story, and get it over with, Slayer," Gimli suggested pointedly, and winked at Legolas, who stifled a laugh.

Elrohir's sharp ears picked up the soubriquet Gimli had purposefully dropped and raised an eyebrow, now fully intrigued. "Slayer?"

"Oh my God!" Buffy stamped her foot, completely irritated by her companions' inability to keep anything secret. She fumed for an instant, and then came to a decisive plan of action to turn the tables. She marched over to Legolas' rucksack and began to rummage through it.

"Buffy?" Legolas called warily. "What are you looking for?"

"Soap!" came her sharp reply. "And a towel, if you have any clean ones."

"I have some linen cloths for drying, but those are-"

"Mine now!" Buffy interjected, triumphantly holding up the soap and the linen. Grinning wildly, she chirruped, "I'm going to go take a bath. God knows I need one. While I'm gone, here's something to keep you all occupied." She pointed at Legolas and Gimli in turn. "Why don't _you_ two tell the Doublemint Twins where I'm from and who I am. I'll give you a topic: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is from a place called Sunnydale, California, which is not found in this particular dimension. Discuss." With that, she flounced away from them, heading for the stream in the woods.

* * *

Truth be told, Buffy was getting rather sick of her behavior at times. Keeping her secrets and acting belligerent was becoming very tiresome, and she wondered if it wasn't time for a huge change. But old habits die hard and her habits were deeply ingrained.

Ever since she became the Slayer, it was part of her calling to remain "Secret Identity Girl", so now it was just second nature. Here, it didn't really matter, she supposed as she tromped through the wooded area, trying to remember where the fishing brook was. Supernatural creatures were the norm in this world, so a vampire slayer, while unheard of in these parts, was hardly an anomaly, considering.

It wasn't as if she really cared whether or not El De Barge, or whatever their names were, really knew who she was. It wasn't that big a deal, but she just didn't like to be browbeaten and bullied. And she knew that she was going to be repeating herself over and over every time she met a different person, whether or not they were really entitled to know.

"'Tweedles Dee and Dum' sure think they're entitled," she said to herself, not caring if the elves could hear. "Well fine. But they're not gonna hear it from me. Not right now. I'm disgusting, and I've had it with feeling icky!"

Finally finding the brook, she sank down onto her knees, and began to scoop up water with her hands. She brought the cold liquid to her face, and blinked the droplets away from her eyes. Buffy smoothed her hair back, and grimaced when she felt how greasy it was.

"I probably look like one of those goblin things right now," she muttered. She hadn't seen her reflection since she'd gotten here. Whenever the opportunity arose, she managed to avoid looking directly at it. _Kinda like avoiding direct sunlight; it's bad for the eyes_ she mused. Now, she had a human's inexplicable curiosity to stare at something repulsive. She peeped cautiously into the water.

It was hard to tell, with the water moving and all, but once it steadied a little, she could see. Buffy noticed her stringy hair first, the uncolored roots grown out about an inch and a half. Her face was smudged with dirt, and she was pretty certain she could see a zit or two cropping up on her cheeks. She drew her lips back over her teeth, running her tongue over the nasty film that had built up.

"Ucch," she said, noting the nasty taste in her mouth. That was what came of not having any access to a toothbrush or toothpaste for a month. She always rinsed her mouth out as best as she could, but she couldn't prevent cavities that way.

Having had enough, Buffy pulled her sweater off over her head, and shuddered at the odor emanating from her clothing and her body. Horse, dirt and sweat all culminated in a nasty cocktail. How Legolas had refrained from shoving her away from him when they hugged last night, she did not know.

Buffy noted the tufts of hair in her armpits and cringed. Not wanting to dwell, she pulled off her boots and socks, gagged, and stifled a sob. "This is just too much," she whispered, blinking back tears. Taking a cautious breath, she pulled herself together before standing up and taking off her jeans, bra and underwear.

"Gross," she whimpered. She had been wearing the same pair of underwear for a month. She couldn't really wash her clothes, since she'd have nothing to wear while she waited for them to dry. Buffy just thanked God or whatever power was responsible, that she hadn't gotten her period yet. She hoped, in fact, that her lack of the aforementioned would continue during her sojurn in this dimension, for everybody's peace of mind.

The brook was shallow, about up to her knees, but she stepped in, letting her legs get used to the temperature. Figuring she may as well take the plunge, she found a large stone at the bottom of the brook to perch on, and sat gingerly. Holding her nose, she leaned back, and submerged her entire body in the water.

Buffy sat up abruptly, shivering. She knew she couldn't take too long with her bath. It was early morning, and it was autumn, therefore cold out, and the water was frigid. She grabbed the soap from the bank, and lathered up quickly. She soaped up her hair as well, giving it a thorough scrubbing to get all the greasiness and dirt out.

Starting to shiver uncontrollably, Buffy sped up her ministrations. She sure hoped that hot baths were available where they were going, as well as some kind of decent hair products, and maybe some lotions. A full-service spa would be a nice plus. Considering how pretty and well-maintained elves seemed to be, she wouldn't be surprised if they had a whole line of their own organic skin and hair care products at their disposal.

"Cold, cold, cold!" she whispered fervently, as she rinsed the soap from her body and hair. And her body hair. Buffy stood up carefully, finally finished and stepped onto the bank, running in place to get her blood going. She picked up Legolas' towel, and began to dry herself.

Legolas always let her use these, and he was unfailingly generous with most of his things. Buffy experienced a pang of guilt remembering her cantankerous attitude towards him the previous day. Maybe she could offer to wash out his towels to make up for it. But feeling cranky was better than feeling nothing, she figured. In this world, her senses were beginning to awaken, especially when it came to the elf.

Her body warmed as she thought of him, and her heart sped up. Buffy couldn't say what she felt exactly, only that he was becoming a friend, a really good one, and she didn't know what she'd do without him right now. Gimli was a friend as well, and he certainly didn't let her get away with anything, so she had a good balance of sympathy and realism from the both of them.

Unlike her friends at home, who just tried to return to the status quo with her, they did not ignore her bad moods or pretend not to notice when she disconnected herself from life. Everyone at home wanted to play it as if everything was alright when it clearly was not. Gimli and Legolas always bravely confronted her, and boosted her up or kicked her ass when she needed it. Buffy's throat tightened as she thought of home, and the conflicting and painful feelings those thoughts aroused.

All her emotions, foul and fair, were a good sign. The month following her resurrection was hellish in that she wasn't exactly certain that her soul had returned along with her body. She worried that it perhaps wandered somewhere, because she just couldn't bring herself to care about anything. She had still felt dead.

In this new world she was beginning to realize that her soul was still with her. Maybe it was just in shock, or maybe she was just depressed. Whatever it took, though, Buffy knew she had to make it through this. It was so hard, but she would do it.

Determined to be more friendly with her companions, old and new, she drew her smelly clothes back on, and pulled on her socks and boots. She wrapped the damp towel around her hair and headed back to camp, her body feeling refreshed and her heart feeling just a little bit lighter.

* * *

Wesley sat at his desk at the hotel office, poring over the notes he'd made earlier. He squinted again at the text he had been referring to, and then at the computer screen. Muttering to himself, he began to jot something down, when suddenly a noise made him look up sharply. He stood as the sound of a door slamming shut was followed by running footsteps.

Wesley watched as Angel jogged down the lobby stairs and made for the office, hurrying as if the hounds of hell were on his heels. Without acknowledging Wesley's presence, the vampire entered and went straight to the fridge, humming an off-key tuneless melody to himself as he rummaged through it.

"Something wrong?" Wesley asked after a moment, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Huh?" Angel started, hitting his head on the top of the fridge. Straightening up carefully, he rubbed his skull, and turned to Wesley with a dazed look on his face.

"I said is something wrong? Since you're looking for food, I assume Buffy's not in danger, so you must be all finished watching her." The bespectacled Brit eyed Angel circumspectly, noting his self-conscious demeanor.

"I wasn't watching her!" Angel shouted defensively, and Wesley raised an eyebrow. Angel backtracked. "I mean…I wasn't watching her just now, and I'm not finished I'm just taking a quick break…'cause I got really hungry," he explained hurriedly.

"Okay," Wesley replied airily, not wanting to press the issue since he had other things to discuss with Angel. "Er, if you have time during this break, I'd like to draw your attention to something." Angel closed the fridge and headed over to the desk. Wesley flipped through the notepad to the first page.

Angel leaned over Wesley, studying the hastily written scribbles which were supplemented by little dots with lines drawn between them. "You've been playing connect-the-dots?"

The former watcher frowned at his associate. "No, these are constellations. Do any of them look familiar to you?"

Angel took a second look. "Yeah," he pointed to the patterns in turn. "Cassiopeia, Andromeda, Pisces." He straightened up and shrugged. "Why?"

"I noticed these same constellations were in the sky in the world where Buffy is," he intoned sagely. "Doesn't that strike you as rather odd?"

"I guess," Angel replied thoughtfully. "I hadn't really picked them out when we first saw that sky, but now that I think about it…yeah, they were there. What do you think that means?"

Wesley shook his head. "I don't know. Even though it was dark, the terrain of that place reminded me a lot of…the English countryside." He glanced up at Angel to gauge his reaction.

"Yeah, it did." Angel nodded, and began to pace. "But Pylea's terrain was a lot like this dimension's, so that could mean anything…"

"But Pylea had two suns." Wesley interjected, his tone becoming more earnest. "And it was more than just its appearance, it was more of a general feeling I got from this place. It felt like…home."

Angel seemed to chew this over, but then began to look doubtful. "Ireland was my home, remember, Wes? I mean, it seemed a little familiar, but…I don't know. Unfamiliar at the same time."

Both men were silent for a moment, contemplating what they had seen in the Axis that day. Wesley tossed his notes back onto his desk and leaned back in his chair, his hands overlapping on his stomach.

"Angel, I'm no expert on astronomy, but I've been checking online and…those constellations are exactly in the places they should be for this time of year over the Northern Hemisphere."

"The trees…" Angel wandered slowly over to the window, staring out into the night. "They were changing color. It's autumn there…and here." He turned sharply, staring at Wesley with a sudden realization. "How far ahead of us is England, time-wise? Eight hours?" At Wesley's nod, he made some quick calculations. "It's after ten here, and there it's just past dawn."

Spurred on by Angel's notion Wesley continued. "I also noticed that as the sun began to rise, and all the other stars faded, there was one star that was still quite visible."

Angel ceased pacing and turned his head to look at Wesley. "Like the morning star, Venus?"

Wesley's expression was inscrutable. "But it was in the wrong place," he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk. "Venus can never appear opposite to the sun in the sky, but in Buffy's dimension, it shone in the West, while the sun rose in the East."

Angel's eyes shifted from side to side in consideration of this information. "Huh," he responded. "So what does all this mean, Wes? Is she just in England, but with an out-of-whack morning star?"

"Or another version of it…somewhere," Wesley began rubbing his temples. "My head is pounding with the effort of trying to make sense of that."

Angel frowned, trying to puzzle out this mystery. "I can't really wrap my mind around it now, either."

The vampire made an attempt to start for the door, but before he could go, Wesley stopped him with more of his insights. "Something else, I noticed, and I wonder if you saw this as well," Wesley paused, his eyes focused somewhere over Angel's shoulder as he worked out his thoughts.

"Yeah?" Angel urged, a little impatiently.

Wesley met Angel's eyes again. "Growing up, I became rather good at reading lips…I won't go into exactly why…" Here, Wesley looked away uncomfortably. "But suffice it to say, it's a skill I still possess." He swiveled his chair from side to side. "I watched very carefully as everyone we saw in the Axis was speaking, and I couldn't understand a bloody word they were saying." His eyes connected with Angel's again. "Not even Buffy."

Angel stared at Wesley for a moment, taken aback. "Buffy took three years of French and can barely say 'Bonjour'," he laughed. "How could she possibly…" He shook his head, unable to complete the thought.

Wesley shrugged. "Perhaps I'm wrong. If you're not finished watching, you could try to read what they're saying and tell me what you see."

Angel nodded slowly, and then strode toward the office door, turning to look at Wesley over his shoulder. "Keep working on all the other stuff. See what else you can figure out."

"Yes," Wesley responded eagerly. He jumped up and walked to the bookshelf, scanning the tomes. When the former watcher continued to speak, Angel stopped in his tracks and spun around reluctantly. "I'll try to see if any of our texts have writing like the engraving on that sword. I also have some books on mythological creatures. I think Buffy's pointy-eared friends might be something akin to a people based in Norse mythology-" Sensing Angel's impatience to get back upstairs, he stopped rambling. "Why don't you, er, go back to the viewing room, as it were?" he suggested.

Angel turned and began to exit the office. "She should be done by now," he murmured to himself, but not quietly enough.

"Done with what?"

Angel halted dead in his tracks at the question. Wesley thought that if the vampire could blush, he would be beet red right about now. He pivoted slowly, and seeing Wesley's interested and expectant gaze, he searched for an explanation. Unable to come up with a sensible lie, he capitulated and looked down at the floor, muttering. "She's taking a bath."

"Beg pardon?"

Angel rolled his eyes and brought his head up, his discomfiture apparent as he repeated himself. "She's taking a bath," he said a little more loudly. "In a stream. I thought it would be rude to watch, okay?"

Wesley took this in, and tried very hard not to smile. "Very gentlemanly of you, I'm sure."

* * *

"I'm back, I'm refreshed, cleaner, a lot less smelly and a lot less bitchy," Buffy announced cheerily upon her return to the campsite. "And I'm starved. What breakfast food do we have for Buffy?" She plopped herself down on the ground, unwrapped the towel from around her head and accepted the Lembas Legolas handed her without complaint.

As Buffy munched on the waybread she didn't appear to notice that her companions were all staring at her with varying degrees of incredulity. In truth, she was kind of reveling in the fact that she'd surprised them all with her airy demeanor, and milked it for all it was worth. She made little 'yummy' noises as she ate, and picked up stray crumbs with her fingers, making sure she got every little bit of her breakfast eaten.

When she was finally finished, she sighed contentedly, and gazed off into the distance, surveying the land and the sky. "You know," she said philosophically. "I probably haven't said it before, but this place is really beautiful. It's like…" she searched for a suitable comparison. "It's like the Land of Oz, but without all the giant tacky fake flowers."

When no one responded, she looked around at the group. They were still staring at her strangely. "What?" Buffy straightened up, pretending to be self-conscious.

After a few seconds, Elladan spoke up. "You are a vampire slayer?"

"From another world?" Elrohir asked, obviously befuddled by the concept.

"That's me," Buffy replied lightly. "Why, is that just really hard to believe or something?"

"How can there be…a world that is not this one?" Elrohir shook his head, as if trying to ward off a huge headache.

Buffy shrugged. "Don't know. But there is, 'cause I ain't from around these parts," she drawled.

"And vampires are different where you are from?" Elladan leaned towards Buffy, intrigued. "Legolas tells us that you say they are blood-drinking demons inhabiting the bodies of dead humans." Buffy nodded, but Elladan still seemed confused. "And that you kill them with a stick of wood."

"Well, it sounds so simple when you put it that way," Buffy said and rolled her eyes. "It's not as if I just walk up to them, say, 'Hey there,' and poke them in the chest. There's a lot of kicking and punching, not to mention all the punning. And it's not all vampires. There's preying mantis demons, mayors that turn into giant snakes, you know, your average garden variety of evil creatures."

Buffy suddenly noticed that Legolas and Gimli had heretofore been completely silent They just sat by, staring at her intently, exchanging a confused glance now and then. The way they were observing her so closely was beginning to get on her last nerve, and she finally broke.

"Okay, I know what's got the twins all up in a tree, what the hell is the matter with you two?" Buffy asked quizzically.

Taken aback, Legolas glanced at Gimli and chose his words very carefully. "Nothing," he denied. Buffy gave him a disbelieving stare. Reluctantly, Legolas backpedaled. "Well, it is just that you are so…"

"Talkative," Gimli provided.

"Yes," Legolas nodded eagerly. "And also very, very…" he trailed off again.

"Cheerful," Gimli spoke again. "We are not used to it. 'Tis very disconcerting."

Offended, Buffy crossed her arms. "Well, if you want, I can go back to being grouchy and depress-o Buffy. She should be coming back any time now anyway."

"No!" everyone shouted, almost at once.

"Hm." Still a little wounded, Buffy dropped her defensive posture. "A good fight and a bath can do wonders for a girl." She eyed the group hopefully. "Are we done talking about all my stuff, 'cause-"

"This world of yours sounds vastly unpleasant," Elrohir muttered, still looking rather dazed.

"Why don't we pick up right where we left off?" Buffy muttered to herself.

"And you travel the land, slaying evil where you find it?" Elladan inquired.

"No, it pretty much just comes to me. I stay in one place. It's a town called Sunnydale, which happens to be built on a Hellmouth." Buffy answered matter-of-factly.

"A what?" asked just about everyone.

"A Hellmouth," Buffy repeated. "It's an area where the walls between our world and the underworld are weak. It's kind of a hot spot for demonic and supernatural activity. Hence all the poking things with sticks and the weird goings-on."

"The Underworld," Elladan echoed softly, his eyes wide.

"Yup," Buffy affirmed. "Every couple of years or so, some nasty something-or-other tries to open it up and destroy the world. That's where I come in." Buffy paused thoughtfully. "And my friends, they help with that, too."

"They are slayers as well?" Elrohir cocked his head to one side curiously.

"Nope, there's just one slayer per generation," Buffy stopped and corrected herself. "Well, two, actually. I died for a really short time, and my friend Xander revived me." She glanced meaningfully at Legolas, begging him with her eyes not to speak. He seemed confused, but he did not speak.

"How could you be revived if you were dead?" Elladan asked incredulously.

"Well, I'd drowned, and I'd only been dead for a short time. Xander pulled me out, and…" Buffy tried to think how to explain CPR in a way they'd understand. "You breathe into someone's mouth and press on their chest to get their heart going, and that's what saved me. Gross, but effective."

"I wager that _Ada_ has never heard of such a thing," Elrohir declared skeptically. "But in any case, you died and…then what?"

"I was dead long enough for another slayer to be called. Kendra," Buffy said sadly. "She didn't last very long. After her, Faith came, but she went crazy and turned evil…"

"And after her?" Legolas prodded.

"No one," Buffy answered. "Faith's still alive. She's in prison. She turned herself in. Who knows what's going to happen with her."

"So now your Hellmouth is left unprotected," Elrohir stated severely. "Why and how did you come here if there is no one to guard it?"

"I didn't!" Buffy exclaimed in her defense. "I have no idea how I got here, and I sure as hell don't know why this happened. That's why I'm off to see what's-his-name-."

"Gandalf," Legolas and Gimli said together.

"What they said," Buffy murmured tiredly. She was now starting to feel the lack of sleep from the previous night, and yawned.

"And to see if our father can help," Elladan added.

"The more, the merrier," Buffy rested her chin in her hand, and stared ahead blankly.

"Do not fall asleep just yet, Slayer," Elrohir demanded loudly, as Buffy's head began to droop.

"What?" Buffy croaked crossly. "Aren't we done with the interrogation yet?"

"Grouchy Buffy has returned," Gimli muttered to Legolas, who shushed him.

"I wish to know more of this place you come from," Elrohir rose, walked over to Buffy and crouched in front of her. "No elves live in…what is it called?"

"What's what called?"

"Your world, your realm, woman!"

"Earth. Just plain old Earth. Terra Firma if you will. No middle or bottom, just Earth. Seven continents, four oceans, and a whole lotta people." Buffy closed her eyes. "And no elves."

"Tell us more of this Earth, won't you?" Elladan pleaded, now very eager to hear of unknown places.

"Mmmmm," Buffy groaned, and frowned, her eyes still closed. "Sleep now."

"Not now," Elladan stood and joined his brother at Buffy's feet. "At least give us a song of one of your adventures."

Buffy opened one eye. "Huh? I don't have any songs about that stuff." The eye snapped shut again.

"Then sing us a song of your people, or better yet, give us a tale!" Elrohir suggested.

Both Buffy's eyes cracked open at this. "What is this, story time for kindergarteners? I don't sing-"

"Unfortunately, sometimes she does," Legolas smirked, and Buffy cast him a nasty look.

"Oh!" cried Gimli excitedly. "Sing the song you were humming a few days ago. A tragic story," he told the twins. "About a dancing bird woman and her doomed lover. Her name was uh…er…"

"Lola!" Buffy was fully awake now. "For the millionth time, Gimli, her name was Lola, and she was a showgirl, not a bird woman!"

"Then why the feathers?" Legolas asked teasingly.

"Merely for decoration," Buffy put her face in her hands half in exasperation and half in remembered humiliation. For some inexplicable reason, during their traveling hours, Buffy had gotten "Copa Cabana" stuck in her brain, and no matter what song she tried to replace it with, she couldn't get rid of it. Without even realizing, she'd begun to sing it under her breath, hoping to perhaps exorcise it by getting it out in the ether.

Unfortunately, Legolas and Gimli had heard enough to make them curious. They insisted on hearing the entire number until she begrudgingly gave in. They enjoyed the song immensely, although they could not understand some of the lyrics. Buffy refused to go into it; it was enough that she had sung the song. She really had no idea why Barry Manilow's greatest hits seemed to have taken up residence in her mind, but now she cursed him silently.

"I would like to hear about this bird-woman," Elladan piped up.

Buffy uncovered her face, and stood resolutely. "No, a world of no," she told them.

Disappointed but not defeated, the twins tried another tack. "Well then, tell us of these elves who make shoes," Elrohir suggested.

"Yes, tell us that tale," Elladan agreed heartily.

Buffy was about to voice another denial, but she suddenly thought better of it. A slow smile spread across her face. "Why not?" she said, and sat back down. "Let's see…how does it start?" Buffy tapped her finger on her chin. "There was once this shoemaker who was really poor, but a nice guy that everyone liked. He didn't have enough money to buy leather to make more than one pair of shoes, so one night…"

* * *

Gimli was rolling on the ground, tears of mirth streaming down his face. Buffy was having a hard time continuing the story, her breathing punctuated by giggles caused by the dwarf's contagious laughter. The three elves sat silent and sullen, unamused by the story and its effect on the other two members of the party.

"They are …tiny naked creatures!" Gimli chortled. He sat up, his belly shaking, and wiped the tears away from the corners of his eyes. "Merrily making shoes throughout the night and skipping away at dawn!" He was overtaken by another fit and fell backwards.

Buffy cackled, leaning forward, almost in pain. "Then the shoemaker's wife says… 'Let's make the poor things some teeny tiny outfits'" She took in a deep breath. "So that night, they put out the clothes, and hid, and they see the little elves come in all hippity-hop, and…" Buffy continued the story until its end, with the elves happily exclaiming over their new clothes, putting them on, and then dancing off into the night, never to be heard from again.

Elrohir grunted and looked askance at his brother. "Her world is filled with imbeciles," he muttered.

"Such helpful little creatures, these elves," Gimli's laughter began to subside. "Would that they could be so in Middle Earth. A lot less trouble we would have."

"And what of dwarves and their waywardness, Gimli, son of Gloín?" Elladan retorted irritably. He turned to Buffy with a frown. "Have you any silly tales of their kind in your realm?"

"Sure," Buffy's giggles came less frequently now and she took in as much air as she could. "One of these days, I'll tell you about the seven dwarves: Happy, Bashful, Sneezy, Sleepy, Grumpy, Dopey, and Doc." Helplessly, she began to giggle again.

Gimli sobered up instantly. "What kind of fool names are those for dwarves?" he roared indignantly.

A moment passed and all were quiet. Legolas was biting back a grin, and the twins were doing likewise, but seeing Gimli's affronted face, they could hold back no longer. The entire group, save the dwarf erupted into laughter.

"I liked the tiny naked elves better," Gimli mumbled petulantly.

* * *

Wesley knocked softly on the door of Angel's room. He heard the vampire's grunt of assent, and entered. Looking around the room, Wesley found Angel standing at the window, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His head was up, and he seemed to be looking for something in the dimly brightening sky.

"All done?" Wesley leaned against the door frame, his tone gentle. Angel nodded, but did not turn. "Did you happen to notice if-"

Angel shook his head in reply and muttered, "Couldn't make out any words that I know." He shook his head again, and shifted his gaze to the floor. "Don't understand how that's possible."

"Another mystery to solve in this tangled web," Wesley conceded. He paused and then sighed. "But perhaps it's not really all that important right now."

"Maybe not," came the vampire's barely audible response.

Wesley pushed off of the door frame, and approached his friend slowly. "So, what do you think, is she safe for the moment?"

Angel didn't answer for a little while, lost in a myriad of thought. At last he replied, "I think so."

"Based on what?"

Angel finally turned around to face Wesley, an almost serene expression on his dark features. "She was laughing," he said a smile breaking out on his face. "With those pointy-eared guys and the dwarf. They were all laughing and having a good time."

Wesley smiled in return, glad to hear that the Slayer was safe and among friends. "That's good to know," he said. "That she can smile and laugh despite all she's been through. Perhaps those around her are having a good influence on her."

Angel's smile faded just a little, and he was silent for a moment, no doubt thinking of Buffy's embrace with the blonde man.

"Yeah."

**Author's note:** I know next to nothing about astronomy, guys. Even researching it made my head spin a little. So let's pretend for the sake of the story that I know what I'm talking about.

Tolkien did base his universe on this one, making it a sort of lost history of Earth, so the constellations would be the same. (They wouldn't have been the same thousands of years ago, but again, suspension of disbelief, folks.) His Cassiopeia was called 'Wilwarin' in 'The Silmarillion'. There are other ME constellations that correspond with ours, but none of them appear in the Northern Hemisphere's autumn sky. I needed more than one though, to make it look less like a coincidence, so I used Andromeda and Pisces, which are in the autumn sky in the Northern Hemisphere. However, I couldn't find mention of them in the article I referenced for this chapter, (see link below) so we'll just assume they exist in ME's sky.

I've gotten some of my information, including Tolkien's either purposeful or accidental difference between our morning star and Eärendil from a research paper by Dr. Kristine Larsen. The Astronomy of Middle Earth can be foundat http/www.physics. should you wish to read it. Tolkien put his morning star opposite of the sun, which is not possible in our sky.

In my story, ME is not a lost history of our own Earth, but something else. Another dimension, yes, but…a little different than the ones the Buffyverse people have encountered before. I'll get to it eventually in later chapters.

The main reason the constellations are significant, is that Wesley, Angel and company haven't dealt with other dimensions that aren't some kind of level of hell. Pylea had a completely different sky, and this sky is nearly identical to Earth's.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

"I see. And how did she…? Ah-ha. Yes, that's good. Is there anything that reveals where she- No, I expect that would be too easy. But she's perfectly well? And the people?"

Giles sat on the couch, a pen moving quickly over the pages of one of Dawn's school notebooks. He had been on the phone with Wesley for the past fifteen minutes, and the only thing he had related to the Scooby Gang was that Buffy was alive and in one piece. They were, of course relieved to hear that, but soon they had become antsy to hear more details.

Xander stood nearby, watching Giles intently while hopping from foot to foot. Anya was next to Xander, trying desperately to get him to stop hopping. Spike sat on the floor in front of the couch, a blanket over his head and around his shoulders in order to avoid the morning sun's rays. He tapped out a nervous tattoo on his thighs, every now and then quietly singing a snatch of some Ramones tune. Willow stood anxiously in the doorway by the dining room, her arms crossed over her chest, and her hands clenching and unclenching sporadically. Tara stood opposite Willow, giving her a worried glance every now and then.

Dawn was in the kitchen. She was the only one allowed to listen in on an extension, claiming it was her right, being the Slayer's sister and all. "Listen only," Giles had told her sternly, "don't talk." He needed to get as much information as possible, without interruptions. As far as they knew, Dawn was in the kitchen, biting her lip until it bled to keep from bursting and asking a hundred questions.

"And do you think they're really-?…What? Oh, fascinating." Giles shook his head, his expression one of utter bafflement. "That's fascinating. Yes, I wish I could have seen for myself, I-"

"…I wanna be sedated…" came from Spike's corner of the room and everyone turned sharply to shush him. They made no sound, just frantic hand gestures, and angry mouthings of 'shut up' directed his way. Spike rolled his eyes and gave them all the two-fingered salute.

Giles was oblivious to all and continued on with the conversation. "She did?" He said and then paused as Wesley spoke again. "That's…interesting. And not at all surprising, sad to say. Who won?" He chuckled when he heard the answer, and the others heard Dawn's disdainful mutter of "lame" from the kitchen.

Giles was scribbling furious notes and Xander had made several attempts to peek over the Watcher's shoulder and see for himself what the situation was. Unfortunately he couldn't decipher the squiggles and scratches. He gave up after the fourth try, and went back to hopping.

"Guy writes worse than a doctor on smack," he told the group, as they looked to him for information.

"Sweetie, please stop doing that, you know what that reminds me of," Anya implored, tugging on Xander's arm.

Xander stilled his movements, and gave his fiancée a quick kiss. "Sorry, babe," he whispered.

"No, I've never seen any. Or heard of them actually existing. One hears countless tales, but…Yes, fax that over, please, I'll see if I can find something on it." He listened for a moment, and then frowned. "What did Cordelia just yell? Hot? They were…oh, hot. I see."

At the word 'hot' Xander looked alarmed, and his gaze locked with Willow's. "Hot?" he shouted. "Does that mean she's in hell?"

"Shh," Giles briefly turned to shush Xander, and went back to his conversation. "And she…_really_?" At whatever Wesley told him, Giles sat up in surprise. "That is strange. They must be very friendly then." He went back to making notes. "Fax the drawings too, would you? To the Magic Box, yes. Is that everything?" He listened again, this time for a longer stretch, writing and looking very perplexed. "Hmm…" was all he said to whatever information Wesley had imparted.

"Well, I'll look into it, and you do the same, and we'll compile our research in say, three days?" Giles said into the receiver, and waited for an answer. "Good enough." Pause. "Yes?" Another pause. "Yes." Then a really long pause. "She was?" Giles smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He gave a short, happy laugh.

During this exchange, Xander began to hop again, and Spike beat his forehead against his knees. Willow started pacing, and stopped in surprise when Tara reached out to stop her. Their hands met and clasped, and Tara smiled at Willow, who offered a tentative smile in return. They turned to face the living room and waited in anxious anticipation for Giles to finish and hang up.

"Thank you, Wesley, I- we all appreciate it. Yes, thank you. Goodbye." With a huge sigh, Giles finally hung up the phone, and stood to address the group.

Everyone began to speak at once, hurling questions at the Watcher, and Dawn came bursting into the room, smiling and tearful. As if she were unaware of everyone else's voices, she began relating what she'd heard.

"Oh my God, they _saw_ her! They-"

"What did he say, where is she?"

"And she's in this place with these really hot-"

"Is there any way we can go and get her?"

"Is she with people or all alone?"

"And one really little guy who has a-"

"Is Buffy okay, is she in any danger?"

"Isn't she always?"

"She's fine, she even fought with one of them and it was just-"

"When are you all gonna shut up and let the man speak?" Spike yelled over everyone, and everyone finally quieted down.

Giles had been holding up both hands against the assault, and when it ended, he gave a grateful nod of thanks to the bleached vampire. He removed his glasses, and the group became even more hushed as they noticed that Giles was wiping his eyes. He passed a hand over his forehead, and took a deep breath.

Smiling through his tears, he said, "She's okay. She's perfectly fine, and among friendly people."

Tara gasped with relief, covering her mouth with both hands. Willow began to weep quietly, and Xander put an arm around Anya. Dawn ran over to Spike first, and kissed his cheek. He smiled in embarrassment, and waved her away, so she trotted over to Tara, who hugged the girl close.

"So…where is she?" Xander's voice cracked, and Anya gave him a supportive squeeze.

Giles looked uneasily at the hopeful and teary faces and sighed. "Well, we don't know, er, exactly-" At this, the group erupted again, and Giles sank back onto the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dear Lord," he muttered.

"I thought this thing was supposed to tell us where she was-"

"Maybe it just shows you but doesn't tell. It's a show-and-not-tell…thingie."

"How are we supposed to figure it out?"

"Nice piece of work. All that trouble and it's leavin' us to puzzle it all out."

"It's not a bleeding television show!" Giles bellowed, having had quite enough of this cacophony. The noise ended again as he continued on his rant, flailing his arms demonstratively. "It's not going to put up huge letters in bold type font announcing 'Buffy's in the what's-it-called dimension' is it?"

"Guess not," Xander murmured sheepishly.

"Be handy if it did, though," Anya mused.

Giles took a breath and calmed himself down. "Unfortunately nothing could be heard by Angel's team through the Axis. They could only see what was going on, and guess at what was happening. But, we have some clues." He tapped the notebook with his fingers. "We're going to have to hit the research pretty hard, but I trust that you all are up to the task. This is all good news, we needn't worry at the moment that she's in any danger-"

"What about the fighting?" Xander asked fretfully. "I thought I heard Dawn say-"

"Oh, that was just a friendly duel, Wesley said," Dawn reassured him. "Maybe they wanted to see what she could do, or they wanted to settle something, so she had a swordfight with one of them."

"Couldn't they just do the old rock, paper, scissors?" Xander quipped, a bit incredulous. "What kind of people is she with, anyway?"

Giles coughed, and exchanged an amused glance with Dawn. "Actually, they did eventually settle with er, rock, paper, scissors." At everyone's confused looks, the Watcher explained. "Buffy and her opponent were equally matched, and the fight went on for some hours before they decided to try another way."

"And Buffy lost," Dawn provided.

Giles chuckled. "Yes, well. In any case, Buffy is in the company of four…well, males anyway. We don't know exactly what they are-"

"But Wesley said one of them was a dwarf," Dawn countered.

"Wait, a 'little person' dwarf, or a dwarf of the 'Heigh-ho' variety?" Xander asked.

"The er, latter, actually. He has long, braided hair and a lengthy beard. All the people she was with were dressed rather archaically, tunics and hose and the like as well as some armor for the dwarf. He even carried an axe, and smoked a pipe," Giles answered with a grin.

"And the other ones?" Willow asked, intrigued.

"Um, tall. Long hair, fair faces, and-"

"And totally hot, Cordy said!" Dawn squealed excitedly to the group.

"Wow, three hot guys and a dwarf," Anya said thoughtfully. "The possibilities are endless."

"And two of them are twins!" Dawn added at a high pitch that could only be heard by dogs.

"Oooh!" said Anya.

Giles cleared his throat loudly, sending Anya a disapproving glare. "Wesley did say that Cordelia and this other girl, er Fred seemed to think the other three were very attractive, it's true." He shifted uncomfortably. "But there were other characteristics that seemed to point…" here he laughed to himself. "To what they are. For one thing, they glowed."

"Oooh-kaaay," said Xander.

"Glowed like how?" Willow asked with a puzzled frown. "Like glowworms?"

"Er, no, it was sort of an otherworldly, ethereal-ish light that emanated from their bodies. Sort of all around, and er," Giles attempted. "Very hard to explain. Especially since I have no idea what I'm talking about."

"Must be handy to have around when the power goes out," quipped Spike.

"Does anyone else think that sounds kinda gay?" Xander asked, and then his eyes widened when he met Willow and Tara's censuring stares. "Uhh…not that there's anything wrong with that," he amended.

Giles crossed his arms and continued. "Their ears were pointed as well. Wesley thinks they may be elves." He glared at Xander before the young man could pipe up. "And not of the Santa or cookie-making kind, either. Angel made some sketches, and Wesley will be sending those over along with his notes."

"Elves exist?" Tara said excitedly.

"Not in this world they don't," answered Anya. "It's another example of one of the few times that a myth is just a myth. No elves, no fairies, no sprites or leprechauns." When everyone looked at her questioningly she rolled her eyes. "I've been around for a long time. And I am Swedish, you know. I was born in Sweden, didn't I mention that?" At her friend's shaking heads, she muttered. "Hm. Weird. Anyways, elves are in Norse mythology, but they don't really exist, which is odd, since we did have trolls living in the hills around my hometown, so you'd think you'd have everything else that goes along with them." She shrugged, dismissing the thought. "And Santa's elves weren't originally elves in the folktales. They were gnomes or dwarves. Something got lost in the translation, because elves aren't supposed to be teeny-tiny."

"'Cause these guys are tall, and really hot!" Dawn added.

"Are you capable of saying anything else, Bit?" Spike frowned in irritation, quite put out that Buffy was somewhere with three attractive men. "They're probably pansies, anyway."

"Elves and a dwarf. Sounds like Buffy's in fairy tale land or something," Willow observed.

"Maybe she should just follow the yellow brick road," Xander laughed at his own joke.

Giles cleared his throat. "In any case, they appeared to be camping whilst traveling. There were horses nearby and a campfire as well as other camping accoutrements."

"And camping and Buffy? So not mixy," said Dawn sagely.

"True," Willow nodded.

"So how do we find out?" Tara asked. "Where Buffy is, I mean?"

"We've got some more clues," Giles replied. "And we'll research day and night, like I said. And who knows?" He added with a wry glance at Anya. "Perhaps we'll find out that elves exist after all."

* * *

"Elves do not exist!" Cordelia exclaimed in exasperation. "There are no elves in this world. Not real ones, anyway." She shoved the enormous tome she'd been studying away from her, and turned back to her computer screen. It had nothing to offer her either. "I'm done with this episode of 'In Search Of'."

"Keep looking, Cordy, it's our only lead." Wesley urged her plaintively. "I can't find any language that uses this particular script anywhere, and my astronomical pursuit hasn't turned up anything at all."

"Wesley, elves aren't real," Cordy said irritably. "Neither are fairies or leprechauns or anything with pointy ears and wings."

"They didn't have wings," Fred corrected her, and then had a thought. "Or maybe they did, but underneath their clothes." She smiled dreamily at the notion, and then sheepishly got back to work.

"Well, they're real in whatever world Buffy is in," Wesley said determinedly, and grabbed a book on Norse mythology. He turned to a dog-eared page, and shoved an elaborate drawing of a tall, lean man with long hair and pointed ears at Cordelia.

Cordy studied the picture, noting the dress and look of the figure was very similar to the men they'd seen with Buffy. "Okay, maybe, but I'm getting zilch in the elf department. How 'bout you, Fred?"

"Nothin'," the Texan shook her head. "Mostly myths, but no reports of real sightings or close encounters or anything."

"Well, people just didn't think them up from nowhere," Angel growled from the doorway. "It has to be based on something."

Wesley thought for a moment. "Perhaps," he began, and then he started rifling through his notes again. "Perhaps they aren't native to _this_ world, but-" he started to write his theory down as he spoke. "Just like Buffy got transported to their world, some of them came to this one, and-"

"And you figure someone, somewhere got a look at them, maybe got to know a few, and then made up some stories." Cordy finished.

"Exactly," Wesley looked up at the ex-cheerleader and nodded. "My thought exactly."

"Only question now is, are they still around?" Angel uttered thoughtfully. "If there were some here, where did they go? They must have stayed well-hidden after a while to have left no trace."

"Or they all died out," Fred added worriedly.

"Well, there's a few ways to find out without looking through all these books," Gunn, who had been quietly researching up until now, suggested. "There's always word-of-mouth."

"Hit the streets," Angel interpreted needlessly.

Cordy stood up and stretched. "I could definitely use some exercise, and fresh- well, air, anyway." She made a grab for her purse. "And maybe a drink afterwards."

Angel pulled on his jacket and headed out of the office towards the hotel's front door. "Gunn, you and I will head underground, check out the demon circuit."

"Hit up some real old ones for the 411 on elves, got it." Gunn sprang from his seat, eager to be up and doing.

"Cordy, Fred, Wes you guys go to all the magic and supernatural book shops you can find. Take the copy of my sketches, they might help." Angel turned, his long black coat fluttering behind him, and walked out into the night.

"I think he meant to say 'please' in there somewhere," Gunn smirked at his three co-workers, and followed Angel out the door.

"We'll meet up at Caritas. Call me on your mobile when you're done!" Wes called after the younger man, who waved back to show he'd heard him.

Cordy heaved a long sigh. "Why do I have the feeling this is gonna take forever?"

* * *

Hours later, the five members of Angel Investigations sat glumly at a table in the dimly lit Caritas, listening to some purple demon belt out and consequently butcher "Delta Dawn".

"So, you guys got funny looks and shrugs, and we got snickered at by everyone we asked." Gunn summed up the group's efforts, and took a swig of his beer. "Productive night."

"No one's ever seen an elf," Cordy muttered, leaning on her hand tiredly.

"Or heard of one," Fred appended.

"There's got to be someone somewhere-" Wesley began, but was cut off by loud cheering and applause. The purple demon had finished, blessedly, and Lorne stepped up to the mike.

"Thanks, Rathgar, for that uh, original interpretation," The Host waved the demon off the stage, and then turned to the audience. "It's my break time, kittens. Enjoy the pre-recorded music, and order more drinks. I've still got to pay for the renovations on this place."

The bizarrely but impeccably dressed Lorne spotted Angel and his cohorts from the stage. He headed over to them as quickly as he could. "Welcome back, welcome back," he smiled and waved at Fred. "Hey there, Freddy my love, how's life in the 'not-so-crazy lane?"

Fred gave the green demon a big smile. "Oh, it's pretty good. It's nice not to be loopy anymore."

"Glad to hear it," Lorne then eyed Gunn cautiously. "You didn't bring any more of your old friends to my reopening, did you?"

Gunn shook his head, his expression regretful. "Not tonight. Sorry about that, by the way."

Lorne nodded gratefully. "Ah well, bygones are bygones, but let's not do that again anytime soon, okay?" Seeing Gunn nod, he looked around at the group's morose faces. "Why so glum? They didn't cancel 'Andy Richter Controls the Universe' did they?"

"I hope not!" Fred replied anxiously, and then recalled herself when her co-workers stared at her in amusement. "It's a good show," she added quietly.

"We've got a bit of a conundrum here, Lorne, that's all," Wesley assured the demon.

Lorne grabbed a chair from a neighboring table and drew it up so he could sit. "Anything I can help sort out?"

"Well, I don't know if you're aware of a girl called the Vampire Slayer, Lorne, but-"

"Oh please, Wes!" Lorne waved his hand with a dismissive air. "That girl was plastered all over Angel's aura the first time he sang for me. I know all about her."

Everyone eyed Angel with interest, and the vampire shifted uncomfortably. "_All_ about her?" he echoed.

"I'll keep it to myself, Angel-cake," Lorne assured him. He gestured for Wesley to continue.

Wesley nodded, but instead of giving Lorne a summing-up of the situation, he started to go from the beginning, describing Buffy's mysterious disappearance, and intending to go through every boring detail. Saving them all from this long-winded recap was the more-to-the point Cordelia.

"Long story short: lost slayer in a different dimension with a bunch of elves and a dwarf, need to know the name of this dimension and how to get there." She took a long sip from her glass of wine. "So far we've got nothing."

Lorne frowned, his red eyes suddenly becoming introspective. "Elves?" he muttered.

"We think they're elves, in any case. Pointy ears, long hair, glowing skin." Wesley said informatively. "But we don't know what the name of their native dimension is, or if any came to this world that might help us."

"This being the reason for the long faces," Gunn quipped. "Nobody knows any elves."

Angel had taken notice of Lorne's far-off and contemplative expression, and seized the opportunity. "Lorne? You know something?"

The demon formerly referred to as The Host, focused his eyes back on the expectant faces of the group. "I think I can help you," he said with a smile.

Angel stood up abruptly. "Tell us what you know," he demanded. "Is there somewhere else we can talk?"

"Yep. At the hotel, after I close the club in…" Lorne checked his watch. "Three hours to go."

"Lorne, we really need to know this now," Angel set his jaw, and took a threatening stance.

"Angel, baby, I've got a business to run. I can't leave the club, and I can't hob-nob with you for an hour or two while neglecting these folks. I'm willing to help you out, but the bullying crap has got to stop. It was cute at first, but now you're just getting on my nerves." Lorne's usual cheerful demeanor slipped away to reveal a hard glint that allowed no challenge. Of course, Angel ignored it.

"Angel, I think we can wait-" Wesley began, but the vampire stayed stubborn.

"I'm not leaving until we get his story," he growled, and the whole group rolled their eyes in exasperation. Angel really needed to be a little more flexible sometimes.

"Then you're staying until closing," Lorne retorted, sticking to his guns. "Honey, I've got paying customers, and my break time is up." He stood, reinforcing his point. "Plus, I've got a new bartender who can make a mean Seabreeze. I'll come to the hotel after I close." With that, he sauntered away, and the gang all but dragged a somewhat subdued Angel out of the bar, as a rollicking version of "Heart of Glass" got underway.

Very late that same night, Lorne came to the Hyperion, as he had promised, still clad in his white jacket and pants, and sporting an electric blue button-down shirt. Angel called the crew to the lobby, Fred having gone upstairs to catch a little sleep, and Gunn and Cordelia training with swords in the basement. Wesley, who had been in the office, researching madly, emerged with his well-used notepad.

"So," Angel stood, his hands stuffed in his pants pockets. "You said you could help us? What do you know?"

"It's more like who do I know," Lorne corrected the vampire. "Or is it whom? I can never remember…" He took a seat on the plush red pouf. "Ah well, grammar was never my strong suit."

"Okay, so who or whom do you know? Gettin' kinda late, and we're all pretty beat," Gunn crossed his arms, waiting for the demon to give them something other than chatter.

"I know an elf," Lorne revealed dramatically. He paused as the group looked at each other in astonishment. "Say, could someone get me something to wet my whistle with? Hey, say that five times fast," he laughed. "I'm parched."

Fred jumped up and darted into the office, and Angel stepped toward Lorne, urging him to say more. "You know an elf? Pointy ears and all?" he asked, with raised eyebrows.

"That's right. I haven't seen him in forever, but I think he's still around. Lives somewhere near the Redwood Forest, I think."

"Where did you meet him?" came from Wesley, who was ready to take notes.

"The first time I came across him was really soon after I arrived in this dimension," Lorne intoned as he adopted a storytellers pose. "I was still honing my mystical skills, you know, reading people's auras and the like but I wasn't really getting specific readings for some reason."

Fred brought over a bottle of water for their demon friend, who took it with an aside of "Thanks, Freddikins". He opened it up, took a sip, and sighed, crossing one leg over the other, and staring into the distance and into his memory.

"This guy, he was an elf?" Angel prompted, impatient to know everything at once.

"Keep your pants on, Angel, I'm telling my story," Lorne smirked a second later. "Or don't keep them on, whatever floats your boat."

"Lorne," Angel growled.

"All right, all right. Yeah, he's an elf. I was walking down a deserted beach early in the AM; deserted beaches being the only ones I can frequent. Anyhoo, as I walked I could hear this incredibly exquisite voice, singing somewhere down the strand. It was so captivating, I just stopped in my tracks, and closed my eyes to listen." He closed his eyes, reveling in the memory of that unearthly sound. "After a few seconds though, I started seeing things as he sang. This beautiful world, full of people that glowed. Gorgeous beaches and lush forests. Ahh, you just don't see places like that anymore." Shaking his head, he took another sip of water.

"It dawned on me that I was seeing this singer's life, his home and his people really clearly. I couldn't understand the song, since it was in a language I'd never heard before, but I knew what he was singing about. Heartfelt stuff. It was then that I realized that I could read people so much more easily when they sang.

"I started to walk closer to the sound, and as I did, the song got darker." Lorne uncrossed his legs and leaned forward clutching the water bottle with both hands. "Boy, the things he started singing about woulda turned your skin green," he said with a laugh. "But, hey, already green, so…"

"Bad things?" Fred asked, entranced by the story so far. "Was he evil?"

Lorne turned to Fred, and tilted his head thoughtfully. "Evil? Not essentially, no. But…he and his family got mixed up in something that got way out of control. He was the only one with a rational head on his shoulders, but he couldn't prevent his brothers from…well, that's not important right now. He made some big mistakes, let's put it that way. And now he wanders here in exile, grieving for his misdeeds."

"Who does that sound like?" Cordelia uttered sarcastically.

"I don't wander around," Angel said defensively. "And I don't sing on beaches."

"Thank God," Gunn said under his breath.

"So, he's from another world, then? And definitely an elf?" Wesley asked eagerly.

"Yup." Lorne sat back again. "A parallel world. Or universe, if you'd rather. And yes, I got from his singing that he was of a race of people called the Eldar. Pointy ears, long hair, glowy skin. Just like your guys."

Wesley was now taking notes with a vengeance. "And this parallel universe is called…?"

"Arda," answered Lorne.

"You're sure?" Wesley asked, scribbling the name down. "This was a while ago, is your memory clear?"

"Oh yes," Lorne assured him. "You don't forget that first time you really read a person's history. That moment was cathartic for me. I hadn't really known what I was going to do with myself until that day. I decided then and there that I was going to open Caritas. I even invited the elf to come and sing on opening night."

"You spoke with him?"

"Oh yeah. Beautiful man. Sad, though. He was playing a harp as he sang, and I asked him if he played guitar instead. Harp really doesn't sell seats. Or drinks. He said he could, but he preferred the harp."

"The harp? He had one of those huge things on a beach?" Cordelia asked dubiously.

"No, sweetie, the small, strolling bard, hand-held type," Lorne grinned. "Much easier on the back when you're walking up and down the beach, singing sad songs."

"What was his name? Can we find him? How long has he been here?" Wesley fired off one question after another, too enthused to wait for answers.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lorne held up his hands to stem the tide. "Take a breath, and give me a second, will you? His name is something I need to think about."

"Thought you said you remembered everything about that very special moment," Gunn remarked roguishly.

"Hey, he had a long list of names he used, none of which were the one he got from mom and pop. He's been here for several millennia and I'm trying to remember the last one he went by, so excuse me if it takes me a minute or two," Lorne sniped.

"Take your time," Angel stood and headed for the office.

"Going to look up Arda?" Lorne called after him. "You won't find it in any of your books."

Angel stopped in his tracks and turned. "Why not?"

"It's a parallel universe, not a hell dimension, silly."

"So?" Cordelia shrugged.

"So, it's not a place you can get to from here," Lorne chided her.

"Parallel universe, alternate dimensions and realities, what's the flippin' difference? Aren't they all basically the same thing?" Cordy asked, mystified and annoyed.

"Not really," Fred interjected. "Alternate realities are like, worlds that form from different possible outcomes of a situation. Reality and time do this fork thing." Cordy still looked confused, so Fred attempted to give a simple explanation. "Say you had to make a big decision. Or even a little one, but it had a big impact on the universe. An alternate reality could be created out of a wish to see what would have happened if you'd done something different."

"That sounds vaguely familiar, but go on," said Cordy, beginning to understand.

"Hell dimensions, well they're…here, Wesley, can I borrow that?" Fred held out a hand for Wesley's notepad and pen, and he handed both to her. She flipped to a clean page, and started sketching out a crude drawing. "It's just my theory, but…here's us," she pointed to a straight, horizontal line in the middle of the page. "And here's the hell dimensions." She drew several more lines close to and beneath the first one. "There's lots, and they're kind of layered on top of one another." She then began to draw some lines way up at the top of the page.

"What are those?" Gunn leaned in to look at Fred's example.

"Heavenly dimensions," the young physicist answered. "There's lots of those too, but they're farther away. Hell dimensions are easy to get to, if you can find an open portal or hot spot, and you know a way in."

"Like the Hellmouth," Angel offered, and Fred nodded.

"Or the one in the library that took me to Pylea," she added, her voice cracking a little at the memory. Cordy and Gunn both put a comforting hand on each of the girl's shoulders.

"So where's the parallel universe?" Cordy inquired.

"On the other side of this," Fred told them, flipping the notepad over to show the back of the page. "Or right next to it, I haven't really fleshed out that part yet."

"So why is it so hard to get to?" Gunn stepped away, trying to work out the mind-bending theory. "I mean it's right next door, isn't it?"

"Yes, and no." Fred smiled a little whimsically and shrugged. "The inter-dimensional walls within our own universe can be penetrated more easily. It's harder to go on the flip side. The walls between us and this Arda place are probably thicker, if what Lorne says is true. That it's hard to get to."

"You can't get there from here," Lorne averred, sounding like a farmer from Maine.

"So someone or something with a lot of power must have given Buffy a way to get to Arda," Angel concluded.

"And someone or something very powerful brought Lorne's friend here," Wesley concluded as well.

"His friend with a thousand names," Cordelia grumbled. "Remember any of them yet?"

"Yep. Doran. Doran was the name I used to introduce him at the club." Lorne strode forward with his hands in his pockets, satisfied with himself.

"That's an Irish name," Angel murmured.

"Do you know what it means?" asked Wesley.

"I think it means 'wanderer'," Angel responded. "Or maybe 'one in exile'. But you said that wasn't his original name?" he asked Lorne, who shook his head.

"Nope. But I can't say I blame him for changing it. His real one sounds like some Earth-conquering power-mad alien from a sci-fi series."

"And this name was…" Cordelia prompted.

"Maglor. It was Maglor."

**Author's Note:** If you don't know who Maglor is, kiddies, you'd better bone up on your _Silmarillion_! That's all I'll say about it for now. Many thanks to my beta, **slayer9649** for working on this chapter despite being ill. Please get better!

Also, I'd like to just say that I may not be updating as often for a short period of time. I'm working on a cabaret act that I'm presenting in my home town at the end of October, and I _must_ complete my narrative by the end of August! So, I'm afraid that the show is taking priority right now.

However, I do have lots of ideas for this story, and will probably continue to write for it intermittently, so don't despair! Just please keep reading and reviewing. I really enjoy reading all your reviews! Thanks for reading, and I promise it won't be too long until the next update!


	25. Chapter 25

I would like to thank everyone who responded to my Beta Challenge. You guys are the best, ever! I used several betas to help me with the next three chapters. Anath the GODDESS, AJ, Jennifer Stampede, Kim Le, and Lisa, thank you all so much for helping me and giving me your feedback. Your opinions have helped me immeasurably.

I started writing again with no beta at all, and now I have two! How cool is that? Jennifer and AJ, and they're awesome. Thank you both so much.

I hope the next chapter meets with your approval, readers. Thanks for sticking with this story. It is really special to me, and I love sharing it with all of you. Please give me your thoughts and reviews. More chapters are coming soon!

Enjoy!

Rapunzel

Chapter 25

The green grass was sun-dappled and the weather crisp and clear. In the far distance, the River Glanduin glittered in its iridescent brilliance. The afternoon was waning and Legolas and Buffy rode together at a leisurely trot, the Elf guiding the horse close to the mountainside. One day after Buffy's epic sword fight with Elrohir, the party had resumed travel, their road taking them closer and closer to Moria's West-door.

Elladan and Elrohir rode farther ahead, with Gimli's pony struggling to keep up with the bigger animals. They wanted to scout out possible orc dwellings, for Moria was still infested with untold numbers of the miserable creatures. The elves and the Dwarf were not so foolish as to think that they could walk into the black pit and eliminate every single orc from its depths. Though Gimli naturally wished to do so, for he relished the idea of ridding his kinsman's home of this filth, the group realized they were only five and could do no more than try to surprise small groups when they ventured outside the mountain after nightfall.

Elladan had tried to discourage the Dwarf from accompanying him and his brother. He was concerned that Gimli would not be as stealthy as they, with his heavily plodding stride and his tendency to act rashly, but the Elf saw the grim determination in the Dwarf's eyes and knew that he would not be denied. So they galloped off, promising to send one of the _Peredhil_ back for Buffy and Legolas once they had found something.

"You're very quiet today," Legolas observed as they watched the others ride off. She had not had anything to say when the others made ready for their mission. Indeed, she had not spoken much at all that day, in contrast to all her laughter and glee the previous morning.

"Yeah, I guess so," Buffy replied. Her tone was pleasant and not at all unfriendly or forbidding as it sometimes was when she was pensive.

When no reason for her silence seemed forthcoming, Legolas tried to prod her into conversation. "Is anything the matter?"

"No, not really. I just don't have much to say today, I guess."

"No more stories of elves from your world you wish to share?" Legolas asked, grinning.

"Not unless you want to hear about the shoemaking elves again," she said, laughing a little.

Legolas bit back a chuckle, remembering her mirth as she told them that ridiculous story about the elves and the shoemaker. He had acted sullen along with Elladan and Elrohir while listening to the tale, but in truth he hadn't minded the story all that much. The fact that she was smiling and talking was such a tremendous joy to him, that Legolas didn't care what brought it about. Even if he had to endure hearing about tiny, naked elves making shoes for a month, he would do so, if only to bring forth her laughter.

"If you wish to tell it again, you have my leave," said Legolas, half-hoping that she would.

Buffy laughed softly again. "No, I'll spare you the torture. This time," she added as she threw a cheeky glance behind her. "Piss me off one of these days and I might tell it again, with you starring as one of the elves!"

Legolas laughed in response to her threat. "Would I be naked, then?"

Buffy's eyes popped open wide at his question and her cheeks turned red. She turned back around abruptly. "Then again, maybe I won't," she muttered.

Legolas regretted his jest. He had not meant to embarrass her. She lapsed again into silence, sitting straight up and away from him. The silence stretched between them awkwardly, neither knowing what they could say to end it. Legolas sensed the tension within Buffy, as well as a little confusion.

In truth, he was experiencing some confusion as well. Seeing her smile gave him a joy that he had never known before. He supposed it was only because of their bond, but something in his heart told him that this was not so. Certainly, her moods had taken him on a journey like no other, and his emotions scrambled with hers until he hardly knew which way was up. He remembered their first meeting in Fangorn Forest and grinned widely, for it had been a singular experience. This small girl had not only easily tackled and pinned him, but she had mocked him and laughed at him as well.

That had been a definite sign to Legolas that his life would never be the same henceforth. Indeed, this changeable little Slayer held a piece of his _fëa_ and their destinies would forever be linked. Surely this explained the sense of completeness that had overcome him the other night when they embraced.

Legolas's heart ached at the memory of holding Buffy so closely. He was holding her now, his hands merely keeping her in place as they rode. He was fighting the urge to tighten his grasp and pull her to him, when suddenly she sighed and leaned back into his chest. At first he was startled at this sudden change, but then his arms crept around her waist and he rested his chin on the top of her head. His heart leapt and the comfort that he found in this intimate pose nearly made him weep, for the contentment that engulfed him sent his mind into a whirl of confusion.

He did not know what was happening to him. All he knew was that this was not what he had planned for himself back when the War of the Ring had ended. Once the great conflict had ended, Legolas had wanted to wander Middle Earth and perhaps find a new place to settle once he ceased his explorations. It was something he wanted with all of his heart, to see all that he could and then carve out a niche for himself in the world. Then, when he could no longer ignore the call of the sea, he would sail West to live in the Undying Lands.

Now he felt rootless, completely at a loss. Meeting Buffy had made him unsure of himself and his place in the world in a way that he had never been in the past. And yet, he thought as he relished the feel of her in his arms, he was whole when she was near. Legolas drew in a deep breath, his emotions in a tangle. What had this girl done to him?

Buffy shifted against his body, trying to find a more comfortable position. Finally, she settled back against him with her cheek leaning against his right shoulder. Her eyes were closed and her breathing deepened, as if she slumbered. Legolas could not help but wonder why she'd suddenly decided to sleep just then. He could sense that her emotions were spinning and making her anxious, although he did not know the reason. He doubted very much that she was asleep or that she was even trying. _Perhaps she is overwhelmed with care about the troubles in her life, but does not wish to burden me at the moment, _he thought. _Ah, it is too late for that, little one. I now have a share in all of your worries._ He tried to overcome his feelings about his own predicament in order to offer her comfort so that she could sleep if she needed to, but it was proving difficult.

Buffy, for her part, was also in a land of confusion. The embrace they'd shared the other night was haunting her as well. She was attracted to him. As in really really. Supercalifragilisticly. It started the moment she first tackled him in the forest, but her fascination with him had built over time until she just couldn't deny it anymore. In the beginning, it was all about his looks, especially his eyes. Seriously, he was so pretty she could start writing bad poetry any day now. _What am I doing? _Buffy agonized. She did not need a romance or any kind of flingage right now. She had recently come back from the dead, for the love of Pete's Dragon. She wasn't at some college party, flirting with a hot, new guy and testing the waters. But she really wanted to test those waters. She wanted to jump into the waters headfirst and cavort.

An image of a naked Legolas cavorting in a stream manifested itself in her fevered brain. _Stupid, stupid Legolas!_ she fumed internally. _Why did he __have to __say that? Naked Legolas. Naked Legolas with whipped cream and hot fudge. Stop it, stop it, stop it!_She shifted again, completely discomfited and unable to rest. Plus, she now had desserts on the brain as well as sex. She wasn't really trying to sleep, anyway. She had relaxed against him in order to escape further awkward silences and conversation, and because she was at a loss for anything better to do. If she was sleeping, they couldn't talk about the naked thing. Buffy kept her eyes squeezed shut, fearful that if she opened them, Legolas would know what she was thinking.

He seemed to always know what she was feeling in any case, which completely baffled her. Whenever she needed comfort, he was always at her side, ready to hold her hand or talk soothingly to her. Another strange thing was that his concern for her did not feel like coddling. It felt like friendship, true friendship. That was what she valued about him the most, above all his prettiness.

The best part was that, for the first time since her resurrection, Buffy was feeling alive. When she looked into Legolas's eyes, her blood warmed, and her heart sped up. Being close to him as she was at this moment was waking up her senses, thrilling and frightening her at the same time. Her deep sadness still remained, and some days were harder than others, but it was better than feeling nothing at all.

Buffy could not help but be glad that she had somehow been dropped into this world. As conflicted as that made her feel, she knew that were she still in Sunnydale, she would not be doing as well as she was now. Nothing at home coaxed emotions from her the way this place did. The beauty of it was a balm to all her hurts. She did not feel as raw and exposed as she did on the Hellmouth, where everything was hard, bright, and violent. Though she had never been one to commune with nature much, the sight of the trees and the rolling hills blanketed in grass, the mountaintops obscured in mist, and the clear night sky brought her peace when she was suffering.

Buffy opened her eyes, no longer able to feign sleep. It was a dumb thing to do anyway. _I only did it to get elf snuggles_, she told herself. _It's not like he's complaining, either. He went right for the cuddle._ Buffy knew then that she had to be careful. If he was developing feelings for her- _oh get over yourself, Buffy. Not everyone falls in love with you_. She shook off the thrill that coursed through her stomach and convinced herself that he put his arms around her only to keep her on the horse. It was how they always rode when she slept. _That's right. Just keep it friendly. Really, really friendly._

She decided to end the charade at last. "Sorry," she said aloud to the Elf. "Guess I dozed off for a little bit there." Buffy made a show of waking up, yawning, and stretching her neck.

"Did you?" was Legolas's soft reply. His voice held a slight quirk, as if he was smiling at her in amused disbelief, and Buffy's insides jolted.

_Oh crappity crap! Did he know I was faking?_ Buffy lifted her head to look back at him, and found that he was looking directly down at her. She froze. Their eyes were locked together, their faces close to touching. Buffy's pulse raced and her breathing quickened. _He's going to kiss me!_ She thought in a panic, but she did not move. She wanted to draw his head down to hers and touch their lips together, but she could not muster the courage.

Almost as soon as she had the thought, Legolas dipped his head a little, his eyes questioning. His eyes flickered briefly down briefly to look at her slightly parted lips and she wet them in subconscious anticipation. Legolas's gaze became fixed on her mouth, and his eyes darkened at the sight of her tongue. Buffy's breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes. A long moment passed, and absolutely nothing happened. Buffy's eyes opened again, and she was dismayed and embarrassed to see that Legolas was no longer looking at her, poised for a kiss. He had straightened up, and was looking off into the distance, completely detached.

Buffy turned back around and pulled herself out of his arms. Legolas made no attempt to hold onto her, and Buffy took that as a sign that she'd made a complete ass out of herself. _What in the hell__ did I just do? What was _he_ doing?_ Her embarrassment started to turn into anger. What kind of game had he been playing? She was surprised to find that her eyes were a little wet. She blinked a few times, releasing a tear or two. Using her shoulder to wipe the moisture away, she stole a glance the Elf. He looked back down at her furtively, and then looked away again. He looked extremely uncomfortable.

_Did I totally misread the signals?_ she thought. Buffy tangled her fingers in the horse's mane, idly playing with the coarse hair. _And what's with the tearing up?_ She frowned. _Maybe I had something in my eye._ She stifled a sudden gasp, as she came to a realization. _I had something in my eye. Legolas was looking at it, and was about to tell me, when I went all "Gone with the Wind" on him._

Buffy wanted to hang her head. She was now openly lusting after the Elf, and she had officially wigged him out. She started to tear up again, and did her best to stave off the weepfest. Her light mood was rapidly dissipating. Had she now alienated one of the only friends she had in this strange world? He and Gimli had both stepped up to assist her without hesitation or without even being asked. Xander and Willow had been like that once. But after thy refused to let her rest in peace, she felt like they were pulling off little bits of her day by day, they hung onto her so hard. Legolas only asked of her what she was willing to give.

Buffy resolved not to mention the incident. She would pretend it had never happened, and she hoped Legolas would do the same. She was saved from further brooding when the sound of hoof beats reached her ears. Gimli was trotting toward them, looking fierce.

"Blast those Half-Elven demons!" he shouted.

Legolas laughed as he nudged Arod into a faster trot. "What happened, friend? Did they desert you?"

"Yes, curse them!" Gimli answered. "No doubt they wished to keep all the slaying to themselves, the fiends."

"Did you find an orc camp, then?" Legolas inquired as they drew closer to the belligerent Dwarf.

"We found a few traces farther up the mountainside," Gimli said, his breathing labored. "Then they followed a trail only they could see. They took off so fast that I could not follow. I was determined to be of some use, so I came back to get you. If it had been you and I on that hunt, you would not have abandoned me, friend."

"We shall follow them, then," Legolas agreed heartily. "Then, when I find their trail, I shall not let you fall behind."

Gimli smiled, and looked to Buffy with a gleam in his eye. "Are you ready to hunt some orc, Slayer?"

Determinedly swallowing her recent attack of the doldrums, Buffy nodded. "I'm charged up, armed, and dangerous," she replied.

"Let us be off then. No doubt we are needed," Legolas said, looking up at the darkening sky. "Night will soon fall, and those creatures will be roaming freely."

Gimli turned his pony around, heading back the way he had come. Elf and Dwarf spurred their mounts forward, and Buffy held onto Arod's mane. Legolas's arm was about her waist again, gripping her tightly. An electric feeling coursed through Buffy at the contact, but she shrugged it off, trying to steel herself for battle.

"I will beat you this time, Gimli!" Legolas shouted to his friend. "Your kills will not outnumber mine!"

"That'll be the day, Elf!" was the Dwarf's jovial reply.

"You guys have an on-going contest or something?" Buffy asked in bewilderment. "What's the prize?"

"The satisfaction of knowing who is better!" cried Gimli.

Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Boys." After a moment she declared, "Count me in!"

* * *

"I was just enjoying the feel of the wind on my face, that's all," Buffy was muttering to herself as she paced. "I didn't want to get any dust in my eyes, so that's why I closed them. I wasn't expecting a kiss, no siree." She stopped and sighed loudly, satisfied with her ready explanation, should it ever be needed. "I just hope he doesn't bring it up," she said worriedly. "I hope that _I_ don't bring it up!" she added in alarm. "Just have to know when to let things lie," she advised herself. "'Cause I'm real good at that."

Feeling calmer now that she had totally deceived herself into thinking she had no reason to be embarrassed and humiliated, Buffy sat down by the campfire. The early morning light was breaking through the trees, and she was alone for the moment at the bottom of the mountain. The others were disposing of the bodies of the orcs they had slain during the night. As the warrior with the most kills, Buffy was happily exempt from this duty, much to Legolas and Gimli's annoyance. _Especially Gimli,_ she thought with a smirk.

Buffy giggled as she recalled the look on the Dwarf's face when they tallied their scores. The twins let themselves out of the competition out of a severe lack of interest, but she, Legolas, and Gimli reported in almost immediately after the battle was done.

"Ten," declared Legolas with a satisfied grin.

"Twelve!" cried Gimli in triumph. "Ha ha! Beat that!"

Buffy gestured to the pile of bodies behind her. "Twenty," she said simply.

"What?" said Gimli, his smile turning into a ferocious frown.

"Count 'em and weep," she told the disbelieving Dwarf.

The large party of orcs had startled the companions, who had only thought to confront a small band based on the trail the twins had found. Their numbers had the elves speculating on the purpose of such a large group afterwards. They did not appear to be transporting anything of worth which they might have found in the Dwarven stores, so they could only guess at why they had ventured forth with so many.

They were still discussing the possibilities when they returned to find Buffy minding the fire and rummaging for breakfast in one of the travelers' packs. While Elladan, Elrohir and Gimli walked directly to the camp to wrangle food away from the Slayer, Legolas hung back, observing.

A pang of guilt stabbed through him at what he had nearly done the previous afternoon. He had almost completely lost his head and forced his attentions on her. The strange thing about it was that he did not remember ever thinking of trying to kiss her before that moment, but when she looked up at him as she had, something in his mind clicked into place. The angle of her head and the intense green of her eyes had captivated him, and then he had glanced at her lips and his mind was lost.

Legolas swallowed and closed his eyes as he remembered. In that moment, he had wanted nothing more than to taste her mouth and feel its softness against his. It seemed as if he had always wanted it from the first time he laid eyes on her. For almost one agonizing minute, he contemplated giving in to his desire, but he had to tear himself away at last, knowing that doing so would not lead to happiness for either of them.

What would she say if she knew what he had been thinking? No doubt she would feel angry and put upon. The nerve of him! How could he assume that she would want such a thing? If he had kissed her, she would have reacted with disgust, feeling insulted and used. She had already braced herself against it when she closed her eyes, he thought. He could not understand, though, why she had not turned her head away from him, unless she did not wish to be unkind.

She need not have spared his feelings, he told himself. He had deserved censure, of that he had no doubt. One did not simply go around kissing young mortal women in one's care, it was just not done. He nearly laughed at the thought that Buffy would be indignant if she knew he considered her to be in his guardianship. She would bristle and declare that she could take care of herself, but she still did not know of the bond he had created and the promise he had made to her when he woke her from her deadly sleep. That, if anything, made her his responsibility, and he had no business making unwanted advances, especially since he had no idea why he felt this way or where it would lead.

Legolas watched as she spread out her bedroll and proceeded to make ready for sleep. He was glad to see that she had eaten a substantial breakfast just then. It meant that she was taking care of her needs and not dwelling too much in the terrible situation she had been thrust into. He would watch over her while she slept, he decided. The Elf did not want to risk any more nightmares that would spoil her lighter mood.

He moved toward her nonchalantly, testing his welcome. He sat down by her bedroll and picked up a packet of Lembas for himself. She gave no sign that his nearness bothered her at all. In fact, he sensed some relief and gratitude that he was nearby while she stretched out on her pallet. This satisfied him, and some of the guilt he harbored over the day before ebbed a little.

As Buffy drifted off to sleep, the others breakfasted. No one spoke until Gimli loudly announced his intention to sleep and made his bed. Legolas had to suppress a laugh when the Dwarf's snoring began almost immediately after he'd laid down. Buffy sat up with an irritated grunt and whacked him on the shoulder to get him to stop. Legolas chuckled at this, and she turned and smiled at him briefly before lying down again and closing her eyes.

Legolas's heart warmed at that shared moment. He was still smiling when a sudden noise from the horses caught his attention. He looked up to see Elladan leading the animals away to a clearing.

"We will be taking the horses to feed and then find water for them," Elrohir told him. "Take your rest, for we cannot stay long."

Legolas nodded, and the brothers turned and left the campsite. Elrohir stopped and looked back at him, his gaze questioning. Legolas frowned at him, eager for the other Elf to be gone. He did not wish for a repeat of their conversation about his feelings for Buffy or his fate. He felt a stab of annoyance, recalling how the twins had pried and questioned his actions. When Elrohir did not move, Legolas's frown deepened and he impatiently gestured for him to go. Elrohir took the hint and left, but not before Legolas saw him smirk and shake his head.

He wanted to hurl his Lembas at the retreating Elf's head, but regrettably he had already eaten it. Legolas found a large pine cone instead and threw it, hitting his target right between the shoulder blades. He could not help letting out a sharp laugh at Elrohir's stunned face when he spun around. Legolas tried to look innocent, but failed miserably. He chuckled again when Elrohir turned on his heel indignantly and marched out of sight, his dignity ruffled.

Legolas looked at Buffy, hoping his laughter had not disturbed her slumber, but she was sleeping peacefully, lying on her side with her hand under her cheek. This pose made her appear so young and untroubled, and Legolas wished that were so. All he could do was help her bear her burdens and not add to her troubles.

A thought occurred to him suddenly. When he had almost kissed her the day before, he had not gathered any sense of her feelings at all. He could only speculate about how she really felt about the situation, because he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that her inner reaction was closed off to him. Legolas really had no idea what she wanted in that moment. He straightened up, extremely puzzled. Why was it that he could sense her every moment of distress or anxiety, become carried on the waves of any joy she felt, but he could not hone in on any feelings of attraction?

_And why should it matter? __Do I really want to know how she feels about me? _he wondered. _I know she likes me well enough, but does she…_He stopped those thoughts abruptly. _How ridiculous. I am acting like I am just out of childhood.__ What does it matter if she finds me attractive? It __certainly __does not matter! Nothing can ever happen between us! Ever!_

Legolas tried in vain to quash the curious part of him that was desperate to know this part of her mind and heart. What would be the point? For all he knew, there was someone she cared for back at home that she had not spoken of yet. His heart sunk at the thought. _How can I find out without appearing too inquisitive?_ he thought, before mentally slapping himself in vexation. _Stop! I must stop this at once! I am driving myself mad._ Suddenly, Legolas was startled from his tumultuous thoughts when a soft voice broke through.

"What's wrong?" Buffy was sitting up on her pallet, staring at him in polite concern.

Legolas blinked, surprised that he had not heard her stir. "I…nothing, Buffy, I am well," he responded finally, and then frowned, wondering what had woken her. "Are you all right? Have you been dreaming? Is anything disturbing you?" He knelt by her urgently, ready to help her if she needed him.

Buffy leaned away, a little disconcerted by his overly solicitous demeanor. "Uh, no, not until you started getting all mother hen-like on me."

Legolas relaxed and grinned self-deprecatingly. "I am sorry. You know that I worry for you…when you sleep." He sat back, giving her room to breathe.

Buffy smiled gently back at him, hugging her knees. "It's okay. I haven't actually been asleep for a little while."

"Oh? Why did you not say anything?"

She shrugged. "You looked like you had a lot on your mind." She eyed him slyly. "Maybe that's what woke me. You were thinking too loud." She glanced over at Gimli. "That and Gimli's snoring."

Legolas chuckled a little nervously at that. "Yes, I'm afraid my mind is somewhat occupied."

"Anything I can help with?"

He fought down a stab of panic. "No! Of course not. I am just woolgathering, that is all."

Buffy's eyebrows shot up at his vehement denial. "Okay, just thought I'd ask. I'd like to help you out a little is all. We're always going on and on about me, and I thought maybe…"

Legolas calmed down, touched by her offer. "Thank you. I appreciate that. But I hope you know that I'm quite happy to be of service to you."

For some reason he could not fathom, Buffy blushed a little at his last statement and coughed. "Right. Um…so I guess I'll try to get back to sleep…I guess." She stared off into the night, her eyes full of the same uncertainty he had been feeling of late.

"Are you all right?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm just thinking."

"Anything in particular?"

She opened her mouth, about to reply, but stopped herself. It seemed to Legolas that she was having some sort of inner debate. Finally, she smiled wryly and replied, "You've heard it all before. The self-pity crap. I'm the Slayer, wah, wah, wah. I won't blame you if you run away now. I'm even sick of me."

Legolas chuckled. "At least, you're honest and objective about it."

Buffy wrapped her arms about herself protectively. "I'm sorry. I know I bring you guys down all the time."

Legolas frowned and shook his head benevolently. "Don't apologize, Buffy! You won't just suddenly recover from wounds so deep."

"It's a process, I get it." Buffy shrugged and picked at the lint on her blanket. "Problem is though, that the wounds keep getting reopened. My life is just more and more of the same old, same old. Slaying, fighting, bookoos of demons, egomaniacal people who want to take over the world. And what is with that, anyway? Why would anyone want that job, it would totally suck!"

Legolas ignored the last comment, focusing on her problem instead. "But you get something out of it, do you not? Even if you fail sometimes, you do succeed in saving lives, saving the world."

"Yeah, there's some job satisfaction," she agreed halfheartedly, "but I wish I didn't feel so goddamn alone all the time. Being the Slayer separates me from everyone else."

"Anyone in a position of leadership and responsibility feels that way." Legolas assured her softly. "In a way you are not alone in…being alone."

Buffy looked up at him sharply. "I think I've heard that somewhere…in a song or something. Where have I heard that before? Oh, that's gonna drive me crazy now. Thanks a lot!" She shoved Legolas playfully.

He smiled, regaining his lost balance. "At least it will give you something else to think about."

"True." Buffy smiled back and nodded, then looked at the Elf apologetically. "Again, sorry for all the angst and self-absorption. It's a huge fault of mine, I know." She laughed. "See? We're going on and on about me again. And here I thought I was growing."

"You are also extremely hard on yourself. Did you not find peace after your death? How many people in your world can say for certain what awaits them after they die? You have the comfort of knowing that when death claims you again, you will regain that peace."

"I guess I hadn't thought of it that way." Buffy paused, and then shook her head. "Nope, still hurts."

"It will for a while," Legolas told her quietly. "In the meantime, take advantage of this time you've been given. Think of it as a gift."

"I'll give it the old college try." Buffy dropped her sarcastic demeanor at Legolas's reproving look. "No, I'm serious. I will." She closed her eyes and made a deep sigh. "I just wish…" she trailed off, her voice barely audible.

"What do you wish?" Legolas whispered, moving closer to her.

Buffy glanced sideways at him, looking a little sheepish. "More deep thoughts," she warned. "I just wish I knew why I was back. From the dead, I mean." She shook her head sadly. "And why I'm here, in this place. My life is just one big question mark."

"I wish I could tell you," Legolas told her earnestly.

Buffy turned to look him straight in the eye, and his heart gave a sudden leap in his chest. "I wish you could too."

Neither said anything for a long moment. They held each other's gaze and the sounds of the morning surrounded them, filling the void their silence made. He wanted to keep talking to her. He wanted to tell her how uncertain he was of his purpose, just like she was. But Buffy looked away and suddenly yawned, her eyes beginning to droop.

"Well, perhaps you should try to go back to sleep. We still have much ground to cover, and will no doubt run across more orcs. You need rest."

"Yes, Mommy." Feeling slightly affronted, Legolas began to draw back, but she reached out and caught his hand. "Sorry. In all seriousness, you've really been…taking care of me. I'm really thankful for that." She smiled up into his face. "You don't know how much."

The touch of her hand burned him and his heart swelled. Fighting to control his roiling emotions, he smiled back at her. "It has…been my pleasure and my honor to be your friend, Buffy," he whispered.

Buffy looked a little embarrassed at that remark. She shyly squeezed his hand before letting go to lie back down to sleep. Legolas watched her with a heart full of both sorrow and happiness. In that moment, when she held his hand, everything suddenly became very clear. He loved her.

It was as if the earth was suddenly up, and the sky was down. Though she had only held his hand but a moment, the contact made his heart accelerate, and his limbs shook slightly. He loved her. After thousands of years of living in this world, he had never been in love, and now, at long last, he loved. The ache in his heart turned into a sharp longing, a longing to touch her and hold her. To catch her up and sing a soft song of love into her ear. To have all the privileges a lover would be granted: kissing her mouth, stroking her hair, and caressing her face. But more than that, he wanted to make her smile and laugh. He wanted to be her happiness, and nothing else would do for him but to make her his.

This feeling was so wonderful and terrible at the same time. Not only did music and light fill his being, but also dread and despair. For he loved a woman he could never have, and the pain that lanced through his heart was enough to bring him to his knees. The situation was completely impossible. She did not belong in this world. She would soon go home, and he would never see her again. What would happen to him then? Legolas realized with sadness that he would most likely die of grief. Or perhaps he could depart to the West and leave all that he knew in order to escape the pain.

Legolas knew he could never reveal how he felt. She had been through so much and was so far from her home and everything she knew. She did not need the burden of knowing she held his heart in her small, powerful hands. Therefore, she could never learn of their mystical connection, for if she was ever made aware, she would then be privy to his feelings as he was to hers. This would stifle their friendship and grieve him all the more.

Once again, her voice broke through his troubled thoughts. "Legolas. Middle Earth to Legolas. Come in, Legolas."

Legolas blinked, and wondered what she must be thinking of him, staring at her so intently while caught up in the whirlwind of emotion. What could she read in his face? Struck nearly dumb, he could only stammer, "Sorry."

Buffy frowned at him, clearly puzzled. "Doing the shepherd thing again?"

"W-what?"

"You know, gathering the wool," she said with a smirk. "Isn't that what shepherds do?"

"Uh…"

"Now it's my turn to be sorry," she said. "That was kind of lame. But you looked so lost for a bit there…are you okay?"

Legolas sat back, his thoughts racing, and he willed himself to be calm. Fixing his mind on her words, he finally said, "Gathering wool? Oh! Woolgathering!" he laughed nervously. "Woolgathering, I see, I…understand…now," he finished tiredly. _Oh__ miserable Elf_, he chastised himself. _What has become of you?_

Buffy looked at him appraisingly. "I've been trying to get your attention for a couple of minutes now, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I am fine," he answered much too quickly. Trying to calm his nerves, he cleared his throat. "Was there something you needed?"

"I just had a question about something," she replied hesitantly.

"What is it?"

Buffy tried to think of how to tell him what she wanted to say. She had lied to him before, about the reasons she couldn't sleep. The "poor me, I'm the Slayer" explanation was all too often the truth, so when he had asked her what was wrong, she just blurted that out. In reality, though, she had been thinking of the fact that she had never thanked him for saving her life. It felt like it was forever ago, but she thought about it often, unsure of the right words to say. A few days ago, she had made the decision to thank him by submitting to his wilderness lessons instead of saying the words, but she knew that simply wasn't enough. Something had to be said about it, and she owed him an apology as well, for acting so nasty to him after her awakening.

When she had opened her eyes to see him so lost in thought, she hated to disturb him, but if she didn't tell him then, she might never get the chance. She was so annoyed with herself for chickening out that, when she lay back down to rest, she found such a thing impossible. Though she was stumbling over her words, Buffy was glad that she finally found the guts to say something, even if it sounded lame.

"I…well, first I wanted to thank you not just for being my friend, but…" Buffy paused again, gathering her thoughts. "I didn't say thanks before, when you, you know, saved my life."

Legolas stared at her, and she took that to mean he did not know what she was talking about. "When I was sleeping like that. I would have died if you hadn't woken me up." She put her head down and fixed her gaze on the ground as she spoke. "I have to admit, at the time, I kind of wanted to die. I was dreaming that I was back in…that place.

"I know I was mean to you about it, and I'm sorry about that." Buffy looked up, stopping his voice when he would have objected. "Really sorry. I think I was so mad because…while I was asleep, I really believed I was back there. I think I wanted it so much that I convinced myself it was real and that must've been why I couldn't wake up."

Legolas just listened to her, silently nodding as Buffy poured her heart out. As she stared into his eyes, so full of compassion and understanding, she thought she might start bawling at any moment. _Seriously, _she marveled to herself, _this is what is so amazing about him. He lets me just…be. __I could so get used to this._ Feeling she was leading her thoughts into dangerous territory, she continued.

"But then you were there," she told him. A gentle breeze ruffled their hair and the leaves of the trees above them. "I heard your voice. I can't remember what you said, but you pulled me out…and you saved me." She laughed self-deprecatingly. "Saying 'thanks' sounds so lame but all the same, thanks."

Legolas could not speak for a long moment. When he found his voice, he simply replied, "You are welcome, Buffy."

The wind picked up a bit, and Buffy pulled her blanket tighter around her body. "Can I ask my question now?" she asked softly, and Legolas nodded. "What was it that you said? How did you wake me up?" Buffy didn't know why, but her heart was pounding in her chest as she waited for his answer.

Again, Legolas did not reply right away. Only the sound of the breeze filled their ears for a while as he looked away from her a moment. When his eyes met hers again, they were filled with a softness that thrilled and puzzled her.

"What I said was," he began, and then stopped. "I simply called to you with my heart."

Buffy's heart stopped. Her eyes were wide, and she just stared at him for a long time before saying, "Oh," very softly.

Legolas stared back at her, unable to tear his gaze away. He could not move or think. He wanted so much to reach for her, but he used every ounce of strength he possessed to resist. Buffy did not move either. Her beloved eyes soon filled with tears, and two drops spilled over the edge and ran down her cheeks.

Unable to bear it anymore, he finally broke the silence. "You are tired, Buffy. You should get some rest."

Buffy jumped, startled from her stupor. "Um. Yeah," she said dumbly. "You too. I mean, I know you don't sleep, but you look like you could use some." Suddenly mortified that she had insulted him, she amended clumsily, "Not that you look bad, it's just…what with the traveling and the orc killing, we're all a little worn out, and…you know when that happens, people just lie down and close their eyes, and I'm going to stop talking and do that now, so, um, good night!" With that, she flopped back down on the pallet with her back to him, squeezing her eyes shut but doubting she would ever get to sleep.

Legolas smiled sadly. He loved her more in that moment than he ever thought he could love another being. This was the end of all things for him. When she went home, his heart would go with her.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

"Stupid…ugly…orc…must… DIE!" Each word was punctuated by a measured punch to the face and chest. Left hook, right uppercut, left cross, left front kick, and, on the final word, she swung the axe gripped in her right hand and severed the orc's head from its body. "That was my only shirt, you dumbass!" For extra credit, Buffy whirled and roundhouse kicked the still-standing remains hard enough that the carcass flew several feet in the air before knocking two other orcs to the ground with its dead weight and momentum.

Stealing a quick glance at her now absolutely ruined sweater, Buffy could see the jagged line of blood caused by the orc's slashing sword. Her adrenaline was pumping too hard for her to feel much pain, but she knew it would sting later.

With a sigh, Buffy launched herself back into battle, her fifth in as many days. If she was honest with herself, it was miraculous that any of her clothing had remained intact. True, she did have a few rips and tears in her jeans, those holes were no big deal. They were even fashionable, if one went in for that look; however, her sweater was now just indecent!

The night was pitch black, only slightly illuminated by the orc party's few torches. Their huge, lamp-like eyes reflected the light, making them easy for Buffy to spot. She deftly lopped off the arms and heads of all that came at her. It was pretty easy work until an unusually big and beefy one approached, carefully circling her. Buffy countered its movements and it leered at her, showing Buffy its pointed and blackened teeth. Her nerves were jolted for an instant, recalling the unstoppable creature in her recent nightmare. She shook it off, determined to pummel this one but good.

"Hey, Big Mac," Buffy taunted him merrily. "Looks like someone pays the extra ninety-nine cents to super-size his McMeal."

The orc growled and licked his lips lustily. "I'd eat you, sweet thing," it grunted.

"Hm," Buffy responded as she ducked under the orc's sudden swing. "Word of advice: leave the witty banter to the pros. It's not really up your alley."

Buffy ducked another blow from the orc's sword and began her swift attack, kicking in vulnerable places until she could land a mortal blow. At last, she went for his arm at the shoulder with her axe, but that proved to be a mistake. It was wearing a dark, dull armor which was hard to see in the small amount of light provided by the torches. The axe hit its mark, but bounced off the orc's chest plate, causing her to lose her grip on the weapon, which flew backwards into the tree behind her.

"Oops!" she said as the thing laughed in triumph, and sped up its attack, swinging at Buffy's head and feet. As she ducked and jumped each attempt, she soon realized that she was being backed into a cluster of trees and rocks, where she would soon be cornered. Not seeing the advantage of being trapped without a weapon, Buffy jumped and front-kicked the orc, striking its nose so that it staggered backward. Next, she took the opportunity to tuck and roll past the raging demon, then ran forward, looking for a way to gain the upper hand.

"Aha!" she exclaimed, as she spotted just what she needed.

As the orc pursued her, Buffy jumped up and grabbed a low, sturdy tree branch. She swung upward, completed the revolution, and then kicked the creature in the back as it passed underneath her, unable to stop itself in time. It fell forward, hit the ground, and lay prone, exposing its vulnerable back. Buffy turned another revolution, then did a half pirouette before executing a half pike turn with a twist, landing on the orc's spine with a crunch. Raising her hands in the air with a flourish, she declared, "And it's a perfect ten for Buffy Summers!"

This feat earned an annoyed grunt from Elrohir, who was in the midst of exchanging blows with his own orc. "Must you," he began as he swung his sword, "display your" (clang) "acrobatic skills" (grunt) "every time" (slash) "you engage in battle, Slayer?"

"Jealous, much?"

"Hardly. I need not perform as many tricks as you in order to - _oof_ - subdue my enemies," Elrohir snapped, fending off another blow from his opponent. "Nor do I talk so much."

"Can't help it. It's just my style." She reached down and yanked the orc's sword from its dead and gnarled hand. "Mine now," she said with a smirk.

Their traveling party had been battling their way up to the ruined West Gate of Moria for the last five days. Most of the groups they fought were quite small in number, but Moria was infested with countless hordes, which meant they had quite a task ahead of them. Gimli had been especially zealous in all these battles, becoming increasingly bent on revenge with each one. His fighting was fierce, almost blind, in his quest for retribution, causing Legolas to worry for his friend.

The continuous raids on orcs had been exhausting. Nevertheless, it was a welcome release for Buffy, whose need for a good slay had been building up for some time. Killing orcs wasn't the same as slaying vamps, but she still found immense satisfaction in it. Granted, it was much messier, what with all the ick that came out of the creatures. Burning orc bodies on the mornings after wasn't much fun either. Back home, there was a lot less clean up with vamps as they just went poof. Just brush the dust off the clothes, and you're done. Still, killing these uglies was just as much fun, kind of like squashing spiders. Big, two-legged talking spiders.

It was also a good outlet for all her mixed-up feelings concerning Legolas. What with all the hugging, cuddling, and almost-kissing, Buffy was so stirred up she wasn't sure how much more she could take. The cap on all of it was when she had asked Legolas how he had awakened her from her deadly sleep. Buffy's insides still got the jumps when she recalled how he had looked at her in that moment.

Since then, things had cooled off. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but he now seemed different around her, a little guarded, as if he wished to conceal something from her. Even though they still rode together, he rarely spoke to her, except when necessary. However, in contrast to his silence, he seemed to always be near her when they did battle. Though not unusual when you were a part of a five-person fighting battalion, it did seem that whenever she launched herself into a group of orcs, he would immediately join her. It was a bit irritating.

Tonight, she had encouraged him to be elsewhere when they fought. Well, it was less encouragement and more of a "get your own monsters, these are mine!" kind of thing. Buffy regretted it a little, partly because Legolas was a great guy to have at your back in a fight, but mostly because he'd seemed a little hurt when she'd told him to go.

So Elrohir and Buffy had taken on a camp south of the gate, while Legolas, Gimli, and Elladan attacked a party a little further up the mountainside. They had split up a while ago when Elladan had spotted the second group preparing to fire at them. Legolas let go a flurry of arrows, while Gimli charged forward with a roar, head-on into the fray. Legolas followed out of concern for his friend, as did Elladan. That left Elrohir and Buffy to finish off the first camp, which was proving difficult as they just kept coming, popping out of crevices and holes in the ground. For every orc they killed, three more would take its place.

"What is with the endless supply?" Buffy grunted as she kicked yet another orc in the face. "We need some huge cans of Raid, or maybe a-" she ducked a swing from an orc's sword before gutting it with her own. "- couple of grenades," she finished, before diving into another fight.

"I never have any idea what you're talking about, girl," Elrohir complained darkly. He was trying to concentrate on eliminating as many orcs as possible, and Buffy's incessant talking was driving him a little mad.

"Poison. Explosives," Buffy explained, while cutting off a limb here and a head there. "Explosives are extremely effective. I should know. I once blew up a giant snake…"

"Quiet! Will you please cease your chatter?" Elrohir killed two orcs by cutting their heads off in succession, his annoyance at Buffy giving him an extra boost of strength.

But Buffy was too busy too respond this time. Six orcs surrounded her, and, though she fended off their attacks as best she could, she was quickly becoming overwhelmed. She used her fists, feet, sword, and, at times, other orcs, when she could dodge one's charge and cause it to plow into another.

Elrohir was in a similar predicament, and he yelled for assistance. "_Muindor! Tolo hidh dad a edreitho nîn!_"

Moments later, a figure appeared, running swiftly and lightly down the side of the mountain. He came to a halt about a quarter of a mile away and began firing arrows into both Elrohir and Buffy's opponents. Each arrow hit its mark faithfully, and the ones that did not kill provided the other two warriors opportunities to deal fatal blows.

As the dust settled, Buffy, Elrohir, and the other elf stayed tense and poised for further conflict, but none came. The elf on the mountainside jogged down to meet them. Elrohir turned to thank and embrace him, but checked himself when he saw the face of their savior.

"Ah, it's you, is it, Legolas? Where is my brother?" he asked, his brow knit in concern.

"He is occupied at the moment, but is in one piece," Legolas assured him cheerfully. "I was closer and able to come more quickly when you called." He glanced over at Buffy appraisingly. "Are you all right?"

Buffy was examining her damaged sweater once more and nodded absently. "I'm fine, but I think my sweater's dead." She pulled at the slashed garment regretfully and inquired, "Where's the nearest shopping mall?"

Legolas chuckled and walked over to her. "I think I may have an extra tunic you could wear. We will not find any markets between here and Imladris, unfortunately." When he got closer to her, he noticed that the garment in question was soaked in red blood along the tear. Panicked, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled at the sweater to examine her wound. Buffy let out a shout of protest, but he held her fast. A jagged, red cut that began near her collarbone and stretched downwards toward her heart was oozing blood.

"You're hurt!" he exclaimed in alarm.

"You and your statements of the blatantly obvious," she chastised him, while pulling out of his grasp. "I'm okay, it's not a big deal."

He grabbed her hand and started pulling her to where they'd stashed the horses and their belongings. "We need to get something to bandage you with."

Without warning, a gruff cry rent the air from somewhere further up the mountain. "_Baruk Khazad! Khazad aimenu!_"

Another voice cried out, one full of apprehension and dread. "Gimli! Do not follow-" But Elladan's cry was cut short by a grunt and the clash of steel. Legolas, Buffy, and Elrohir hurried up the path to where their friends battled.

Elrohir's steps quickened when his brother's panicked voice sounded yet again. "_Muindor!__Si nâ nuru nín mabedi dulu lín_!"

When they came upon him, they found Elladan surrounded by at least ten Uruk-hai. "_Ai! Elbereth! _Where did _they_ come from?" Elrohir cried as he rushed forward to assist.

"Damn, those guys are big!" Buffy exclaimed, wide-eyed. "Looks like they've been eating their Wheaties." Buffy made an attempt to join the fray, but was stopped short by Legolas. She looked up at him, confusion and annoyance in her eyes. She took in his concerned expression and knew exactly what he was thinking. "Don't even say it, Legolas. Not unless you want something jammed straight up your ass!" She shrugged off his restraining arm and jumped into the fight with her sword raised.

All through the battle, Legolas stayed close to Buffy, stabbing and killing just before she had a chance to take care of business herself. Finally, she'd had enough, and she screeched at him in exasperation, "Stop hovering!"

To her relief, Legolas left her alone after that, and they quickly finished off the Uruk-hai. Exhausted and gasping for breath, they checked themselves for wounds and wiped the sweat from their brows. Legolas suddenly looked around in alarm and asked, "Where's Gimli?"

Elladan gasped in dismay. "I'd forgotten! After the Uruks came upon us, he chased two of them beyond that copse of trees," he said pointing in the direction the dwarf had disappeared. "We must hurry. I feared he was being led into a trap." With that, the four of them took off into the wooded area.

Indeed, it was a trap, for as soon as they set foot on the path Gimli had taken, they were jumped by a party of orcs and Uruks. Chaos ensued as Buffy and the Elves tried to fight their way out of the mess, hacking, kicking, and stabbing. Gimli's angry yells cut through the fracas, and Legolas tried desperately to extricate himself, but there were too many to for him to break free.

Being much smaller, Buffy was able to duck down and inflict damage from a lower level, felling orcs and Uruks by cutting off limbs, and leaping over the remains. She worked her way out of the mass of bodies and, following the sound of Gimli's voice, she ran as fast and as hard as she could.

She soon came upon a dreadful scene. Twenty orcs were simultaneously attacking Gimli, who bravely threw off each creature that came at him. He had a deep cut on his axe arm, and two black, gnarled arrows were sticking out of one shoulder. Though he kept on fighting, he was getting tired, and his blows were growing weaker.

Buffy took a running leap and triple-kicked one orc from behind, slashing her sword to decapitate another when she landed. Swinging the weapon over her head and kicking out with her right foot, she took out two more. She pivoted and cut through three more orcs before stabbing the sword behind her with two hands, running an orc through.

Grabbing yet another dead orc's sword, she fought her way to Gimli, a weapon in each hand. Orc after orc fell to her fury, and she lost all thought save to help her friend. At last she reached him, and just in time, for Gimli had fallen to his knees, and his axe had been rent from his hands. The foul being standing over him had raised its sword for a death blow, when, uttering a primeval shriek, Buffy leapt, her two swords raised over her head. The sword in her right hand cut through the orc, slicing it from shoulder to hip, while the one in her left hand lopped off its head. Silence rang through the trees, leaving only the echo of Buffy's war cry and the dwarf's labored breathing.

Gimli stared at Buffy, his dark eyes wide. She was an absolute mess, coated with the blood and viscera of the orcs as well of some of her own blood. Her hair was a wild tangle that tumbled all around her shoulders and face, and the fierceness in her eyes spoke of the untamed power that resided in her blood.

She held his gaze for a moment, coming down off of the high that slaying always provided her. Buffy stood, feet apart, a blood-caked sword in each hand, feeling every inch like the warrior that she was.

"Woo! Head rush!"

She closed her eyes, shook her head, dropped the sword in her left hand, and reached out for Gimli. The Dwarf, however, refused to take her hand, preferring to stand on his own.

"I was just about to take care of them myself, you know," Gimli grumbled, his cheeks a little enflamed.

Buffy was a little taken aback initially, but she was used to this. Some men had a hard time accepting the fact that their lives had been saved by a girl. Others tended to just hit on her. "Yeah. I know." She bent to retrieve his axe.

Gimli accepted his weapon from her gratefully and winced. His arm looked pretty bad, and those arrows in his shoulder were stuck quite fast. "However," he assented awkwardly, "your help was most appreciated."

"Welcome," Buffy answered, trying not to smile at his embarrassed gruffness. She gestured for him to precede her back to where she had left the elves. "Come on. Let's get back to the others before Legolas wets his pants worrying about you."

This got a laugh from the dwarf, albeit a rather wheezy-sounding one. Buffy frowned in concern, wondering if he was injured elsewhere.

"Gimli!"

They looked up to see the three elves, Legolas in the fore. They all sighed with relief when they saw Gimli, but were immediately exclaiming over his wounds.

"We must get you back to our camp," Elrohir said gravely. "Those arrows may be coated with poison."

Elladan ran ahead to prepare a poultice for Gimli's wounds, as well as ointment for the others. Legolas was a bit scratched up, as was Elrohir. Buffy's chest wound was no longer bleeding, but still looked angry and red.

"I was so worried for you both," Legolas told Buffy and Gimli, his profound relief evident in his fair face. "There were so many of them."

"Nothing we couldn't handle," Gimli coughed, and Buffy nodded in agreement.

"Yep. Gim here had everything under control," Buffy told the others. "I just helped with the clean-up." Gimli looked up at Buffy in surprise, but said nothing.

They walked on in silence, everyone exhausted by the numerous battles fought that night. They all still felt apprehensive as they had no way of knowing if it was completely over, since Moria still housed thousands of orcs. But the sun was due to rise in about an hour, so they held onto the hope that the activity would now die down.

Reaching their camp, Legolas ushered Gimli over to Elladan, who had gotten a fire going. Pouring water from his skein into a kettle, he prepared some herbs for boiling. Buffy hung back, not wanting to be too close by when they pulled those arrows out.

She looked down at herself to check the slash mark on her chest. To her surprise, not only had the bleeding stopped, but the cut was almost completely healed over. The skin was pink instead of red, and she traced it with a finger. It no longer even hurt. This sort of wound usually took about half a day to heal, not half an hour.

Buffy stood staring into space, her mind abuzz. First, her broken ankle had healed double- quick, and now this gash had done the same. What in the frilly heck was going on? She didn't know how long she stood there, lost in thought. It took Elrohir several loud attempts to budge her from her stupor. When his voice finally broke through her reverie, she jumped and covered the healing wound with her hand.

"I don't know! I mean, what?" she responded to whatever inquiry he had made. Elrohir just blinked at her, bewildered.

"I asked if you had any clean cloths we could use," he repeated for the fourth time, looking at her warily.

Buffy finally came back to the present and shook her head. "No. Sorry. Came into this world with nothing but me and myself."

"Anything the matter?"

"No!" she replied a little too hastily. "I'm just…wondering what happened to my axe is all." Buffy made a show of looking for her borrowed weapon.

"You lost my axe, Slayer?" Gimli's angry shout echoed across the mountainside.

"No! Nope! I know exactly where it is!" she assured him. "Just remembered where I left it. I'll go get it." Buffy turned to go back to the first battle site.

"Shall I accompany you?" Elrohir called after her.

"No, I'll be right back!" Buffy called to him as she left the area. Elrohir watched her go for a second, then ran down to join his brother and Legolas in assisting Gimli.

Buffy trudged up the hill, looking for the tree in which her axe was embedded. Spotting it almost immediately, she ran to it and tugged it out with little effort. Recalling the temperamental trees she had met in Fangorn, she paused. "Uh…sorry about that. Not really my fault, but it doesn't look so bad."

Realizing she was apologizing to a tree, she rolled her eyes and headed back down to camp where she could hear the others preparing to pull the arrows out of Gimli's shoulder. She stopped and winced, hearing his strangled cry as the first one was extracted. "Ow," she muttered sympathetically.

Rounding the boulder that hid their camp, she stopped and flinched again at Gimli's roar as the second arrow came out. Gimli sat, bare-chested, with two oozing, black and red wounds on his right deltoid and a nasty gash in his left arm. Buffy watched as Elrohir took a cloth soaked in the liquid from the boiling kettle and administered it to Gimli's wounds.

Gimli's entire body jerked, nearly throwing Elrohir off his feet. "That stings!" he exclaimed.

Legolas was treating the gash in Gimli's arm with another medicated cloth and had to hold himself steady when the dwarf reacted violently to his ministrations. Elladan then wrapped a bandage around the arm once the cloth had been removed, frowning as he fixed it into place. None of them had noticed Buffy's return.

Buffy walked toward her companions, holding up the axe and calling down to Gimli. "Hey, Gimli! I found it. Hope that helps with the agonizing pain. It's not much, but I think it'll- ahhh!"

Buffy let out a horrifying scream of agony and froze in her tracks. Legolas, Gimli, Elrohir, and Elladan turned to look at her and their eyes widened in horror. Buffy's body went entirely numb and she could neither move nor speak. Slowly, she looked down to see the sharp end of an orc's sword protruding from her stomach.

She let out a guttural cry as the jagged, curved sword was cruelly rent from her body with a sickening noise. The hand holding Gimli's axe slackened and the weapon fell, taking forever to reach the ground. Buffy watched as it bounced and clattered in slow motion until it lost momentum and finally stilled. Her breath came in croaks through her wide-open mouth. Time became protracted, and her vision swam. Lifting her head, she watched as Legolas fired an arrow that whistled over her head to embed itself between the eyes of the orc that had gutted her.

Buffy's body gave out at last and she began to crumple where she stood, but was stopped short of hitting the ground by a pair of strong arms. She blearily looked up into Legolas's frightened eyes before slumping forward onto his chest and slipping quickly into darkness.

**Translations:**

_Muindor! Tolo hidh dad a edreitho nîn!_ Brother! Come down here and help me!_  
Baruk Khazad! Khazad aimenu!_ Axes of the Dwarves! The Dwarves are upon you!  
_Muindor!__Si nâ nuru nín mabedi dulu lín _Brother! Now it is my turn to request your assistance!

Please don't hate me for leaving you hanging, or for anything else, while you're at it! I promise I'm not as evil as you think! Chapter 27 is being written!


	27. Chapter 27

Okay folks! Here's the chapter you've been waiting for! Sorry it took so long, but I got stuck. Thank you all for your reviews, and for not abusing me too much for leaving you with such a cliffhanger!

Thank you to my betas, AJ and Jennifer for your help, and thank you to AnaththeGODDESS for your input and support.

I would also like to thank (am I winning an Oscar here?) my good friend Nicole T. for providing me with lots of information on what would happen to a human body with an injury such as Buffy's. Nicole is a health professional and a soon-to-be med student, who is studying her ass off for the MKATs. Keep the midnight oil burning, Nic. You rock!

Please read and review. Here we go!

Chapter 27

"Buffy!" Legolas clutched her tightly to his chest, numbness and shock pervading his limbs. Eventually, her dead weight forced him to shift his stance, and he knelt on the ground. Using his hands to support her head and lower back, he lay her down gently before pulling away from her, frightened to see the damage done to her body.

"Oh, no," he breathed.

A wide, jagged gash in her torso was spilling forth massive amounts of blood. He grasped the bottom of her sweater with both hands and rent the blood-soaked material asunder, fully exposing the terrible wound. Legolas tried to keep his head when he saw her torn flesh. Transfixed at the awful sight, he could not move, could not think, and, worst of all, he could not help. His heart pounded, his breathing became rapid, and his throat closed up.

Legolas was roughly shoved aside by Elrohir, who took the Mirkwood Elf's place at the Slayer's side. "Dear Eru," he moaned as he surveyed the damage. Elladan joined them, standing and staring in wide-eyed dismay.

Hours seemed to pass as the two healers from Rivendell did nothing but gape helplessly. "Do something!" cried Legolas desperately.

Elrohir turned to him; his eyes filled with sorrow and he shook his head. "I…there is nothing…I can do nothing, Legolas," he said. "Her wound is too grievous…too much damage has been done to her insides. Even were we at my father's house…this is beyond any of our skill."

Legolas's mouth hardened to a grim, determined line. He fixed his fierce gaze on Elrohir. "Help her!" he ground out, grabbing the other Elf's collar roughly.

Elladan reached for him, trying to pull Legolas away from his brother. "_Daro! _He speaks truthfully, _mellon_."

"No!" Legolas shouted, full of helpless rage. He wrenched himself from Elladan's grasp.

Suddenly, Buffy began to shiver violently, her eyes blinking open and then rolling back into her head. Strange groans escaped her throat, and her head rocked from side to side as the tremors wracked her body. Legolas dived forward to grasp her shoulders, trying to still her. Her small body was drenched in sweat and her skin was afire, belying the chills that made her shake.

"You cannot die, you cannot die," he whispered fervently, holding her face between his hands. His heart twisted in anguish, and he turned pleading eyes to Elrohir. "Please," he implored.

Elrohir rose quickly and ran back to the fire, where Gimli was frantically pulling out a large, clean towel from one of the packs. Ignoring his pain and the blood that spilled from his bare wounds, the Dwarf dipped the towel into the kettle. He saturated the cloth with the healing infusion and wrung it out.

Meanwhile, Elrohir found more cloths and some ointment in his pack. He grabbed the medicated towel from Gimli, and dashed back to Buffy. Legolas shakily moved aside to let the healers work. Elladan turned Buffy gingerly onto her uninjured side and supported her shoulders while his twin cleansed her wounds around the edges, wiping away the blood and clearing loose pieces of skin. Then he shook out the towel and carefully wrapped it around Buffy's waist, tucking it tightly.

"This should stem the blood flow," he murmured. He grabbed her by the legs and instructed Elladan to pick her up by the shoulders so they could carry her closer to the fire. Spurred into frenzied action, Legolas ran ahead of them to roll out Buffy's pallet so that could lay her on it.

Buffy continued to shiver and sweat as she was carried over to her bed and set down. Legolas covered her with two blankets, tucking each around her tenderly. He held her face in his palms again, anxiously watching, for what he did not know. He only knew he could not let go of her.

"_Meleth n__î__n,_" he whispered, bringing his face close to hers. "_Meleth __nîn_"

The others stood by and watched solemnly, knowing it was only a matter of time before death came to claim the Slayer.

"_Meleth…Meleth…__Meleth e-Guilen__…__" _the voice echoed over and over. "_Avo belo. Avo adlego. Dartho go-__nîn…_"

* * *

Buffy opened her eyes, expecting to see the face of whoever whispered to her, but there was only darkness lit softly by moonlight. She looked up into the night sky above her, and then lowered her gaze to see her surroundings. She could only stare, confused by what she saw.

Buffy found herself standing in a graveyard, one of the many she had frequented during her career as the Slayer of the Sunnydale Hellmouth. She stepped uneasily among the headstones, trying to remember where she'd been just moments ago. She had not been here, of that she was certain. _No,_ she thought, her mind trying to grasp at strands of memory. _This isn't right. I've already been here, but that was a while ago. I left and I went…__away._

Seeing something out of the corner of her eye, she spun around, fixing her gaze on a large headstone where a long overcoat was draped. Buffy walked quickly over to it and picked it up. It was hers. It was the coat she had been wearing that night, the last time she had been home. Frowning in bewilderment, she threw down the garment and leaned against the headstone.

"Buffy, can you hear me? Buffy!" cried an anguished voice. Buffy turned abruptly, looking for its source. Save for her, the graveyard was empty of living beings.

"I'm sorry, Buffy!" the voice cried out, echoing strangely in the dark night. "I swore to protect you. I'm sorry." The last was spoken in tearful whisper, and Buffy searched desperately, wanting to reassure the speaker that she was alright.

_Alright? I don't think I'm alright_ Buffy thought. She checked herself and saw her dark brown sweater and blue jeans, looking as fresh and clean as when she had put them on earlier this evening. _That's funny._ _I thought something tore into me. It was like fire burning me from the inside out._

"Did I dream that?" Buffy spoke aloud to herself, trying hard to remember. "I went somewhere…somewhere that wasn't…here." She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, a pair of intensely blue eyes was gazing sorrowfully at her.

She realized that she was lying on the ground, her whole body numb and shaking. She could see the sky, brightening from night to dawn. She looked back at the face hovering above hers and frowned. She recognized him, but could not place him.

"Who are you?" she gasped.

His eyes widened in astonishment, and he leaned down closer to her, caressing her face. "Buffy!"

At his touch, Buffy was suddenly flooded with awareness, and she remembered where she was. Or where she had been. Or something like that. She also knew whose face stared down into hers, and his name came unbidden to her lips.

"Legolas," she whispered.

She fought to keep her eyes open, but could not succeed against the weight that dragged her lids down. Buffy floated awhile, not hearing or seeing anything. She felt as if she had fallen into deep, murky waters, and tried to claw her way through to the surface. With a loud gasp for breath, she finally broke through and opened her eyes once more.

She stood in the graveyard again, alone.

"Oh, come on!"

* * *

"She spoke to me! Elladan, she knew me!" Legolas cried, incredulous. He stroked Buffy's brow, willing her to open her eyes and speak again. He did not care what she said, only that she show some sign that she was fighting. 

"I heard," Elladan replied somberly. He saw that this had given the elven prince hope, but he knew the dying often spoke, no matter how terrible their suffering. Sometimes they started to feel better, as if they would live despite their mortal wounds. That usually signified the end, but he dared not point this out to Legolas.

Gimli looked on sadly, his heart grieving for the young girl and for his dear friend. Elrohir continued to treat the Dwarf's injuries, but he took no notice of any pain. It was nothing compared to what Legolas and Buffy suffered. He blamed himself. If he had gritted his teeth when the arrows were being pulled out and endured the agony, then everyone would not have been so distracted. Someone would have heard or noticed the Orc that had crept up behind Buffy. A stray, injured Orc which no doubt had lain among the dead, but found the strength to target their party and exact some vengeance.

The Dwarf watched as new tremors shook the Slayer's body and she groaned and muttered in her pain. Guilt tore at his heart. She had saved his life earlier that day, and how did he repay her? By acting like a coward and causing all to forget that danger still lay nearby. He would be willing to be filled with a dozen Orc arrows if only to buy back her life. Tears pricked his eyes, but he willed them away, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself.

Legolas caressed the face of his beloved, his heart aching with fear and regret. He had only just discovered the love he bore for her in his heart, and, even though he was prepared to let her go from him unknowing, he was not prepared for this. This would be a pain he would bear even after he sailed West, until the end of Arda.

He was without hope that she would survive. He knew that he was desperately clinging to the impossible chance that she could fight her way out, but as he watched her suffer, he realized that more than anything he wished for her pain to end. As the minutes passed and her struggles waned, Legolas was coming to accept that this was the way it must be.

The only comfort he could glean was that she would finally have the peace she craved. She would return once more to the blissful place her soul had found before. Hopefully, this time, her friends would let her be. Even though his heart would break from losing her, he could not deny her that joy, for he loved her freely and unselfishly, and he told her so.

"Go, Buffy. It's alright. Find your peace and be happy as you were before. I could not wish better for you, _Meleth_," he whispered, then kissed her forehead tenderly.

* * *

Buffy felt relaxed and at peace, which was just weird because she didn't have one clue as to what was going on. By all rights, she should have been spitting mad. She remembered everything now. Yanked out of heaven, yanked out of Sunnydale, fooled into thinking she was back in heaven, yanked back into consciousness, and now she'd been yanked to some kind of in-between place. The tranquil feeling departed as she remembered this sequence of events. _No more yanking!_ she thought angrily. _The yanking has got to stop!_

"Would somebody please tell me what in the hell I'm doing here?" she shouted into the night. "First, I went down the rabbit hole or over the rainbow, and now I'm back in Kansas! So what's the what?"

"Death is on your heels, baby."

Buffy whirled around. "Spike!" She saw him standing a few feet from her, lighting a cigarette as if he hadn't a care in the world. "What is going on?" she demanded.

"Sooner or later, it's going to catch you." He took a drag off the cigarette, and then slowly blew the smoke into the air, his eyes never leaving hers.

"What's with the repeat-a-thon?" Buffy asked, remembering where she had heard this before.

Spike ignored her questions and stalked her slowly on silent feet. His gaze burned through her. Buffy was rooted to the spot, mesmerized as he continued speaking. "And part of you wants it. Not only to stop the fear and uncertainty, but because you're just a little bit in love with it."

He was so close to her now, much too close for comfort, but Buffy made no attempt to step back or push him away. Buffy's skin prickled in anticipation. Spike's eyes flickered down to her lips for a split second, while she drew in a quick breath and braced herself.

"You know you wanna dance," he whispered, his eyes searching hers.

Buffy's mouth opened to issue a denial, but before she could speak, the vampire suddenly lunged.

* * *

Buffy let out a sudden, piercing scream that chilled the blood of her companions. She had been quiet for a little while, and they had thought she was fading peacefully into death. Now, her body was rigid with shock and pain, and she gasped and whimpered as if she had been injured anew.

Tears leaked out of her eyes, and Legolas wiped them away, ignoring the tears in his own. He gathered her up in his arms, taking care not to hurt her further, although he knew it would not be long before she slipped into painlessness and oblivion.

Her eyes stared unseeingly at the brightening sky above, and the agony in them threatened to tear Legolas's heart in two. He kissed her again and again on her face, whispering to her comfortingly, and singing little snatches of the elvish songs that had brought her solace during the weeks before. Gradually, her body began to relax, and her eyes closed. Her breathing was steady, but growing more and more shallow.

All at once, her eyes fluttered open again, and she looked deliberately and furiously at Legolas. The Elf jumped in surprise at her lucid stare, and his jaw dropped when he heard her clearly utter, "Spike, you lousy son of a bitch!"

"Where the hell did you go, you bastard!" Buffy screamed into the night, but the vampire was no longer in sight. Groaning, she clutched at the wooden stake that Spike had imbedded in her abdomen. She gritted her teeth and pulled. It slid out with a sickening, bloody slurp, and she gasped in distress. Blood dripped from the weapon and coated her fingers.

"This is familiar, too," she whispered. She slowly looked down to assess the damage, and she almost fainted from what she saw. Her body had a huge, bloody hole in the middle of it. It was so wide she thought she might be able to see behind her if she bent down far enough. "It wasn't this bad!" she cried. "It was just a puncture wound. What is this?"

That heavy metal vamp had used her own stake against her last year when she'd gotten sloppy. She remembered it clearly. It had happened in this same graveyard, she realized as she looked around. Buffy stumbled forward and gripped a headstone for support. Turning, she slid down the tablet until she was sitting on the ground.

"Ow."

Buffy closed her eyes and rested her head back against the stone. "I'm dying," she whispered. "I'm dying…and I don't want to die." The truth of her words surprised her. For the first time since her resurrection, she did not wish to die. Something inside her screamed that she must hang onto life, but it was becoming harder and harder by the moment.

Blood was pouring from her wound, and she felt weaker and weaker until she could no longer sit upright. Buffy slumped sideways to the ground and onto her back. She stared up at the night sky. A tear ran from the corner of her eye down to her ear. "I don't want to die," she told the stars.

The stars did not reply. All was quiet, except for the sounds of the wind and Buffy's labored breaths. Buffy waited, watching the clouds move slowly across the dark blanket of sky and stars. _Who will find me?_ she wondered plaintively. _When the morning comes, who's going to discover my body and deliver the bad news?_ She shook her head from side to side, trying to rid her mind of these thoughts. _I don't even know where I really am! Nothing makes sense right now. One minute I'm in some other dimension, and now I'm back here in Sunnydale._

"Nothing makes sense!" Buffy shouted, shattering the quiet. "I'm hearing voices, and then Spike is all now you see him, now you don't, and I've got a great big, honking hole in my middle, and I'm not dead already! Would somebody please help me?"

Buffy's last two words echoed all around her and faded, bringing home the painful truth that she was truly alone. She always knew that as the Slayer, she was forever alone. Even though she had friends and family to sustain her, her duty kept her apart from them. They understood her job, but they could never truly know how she felt, going out night after night to rid the world of unstoppable evil.

When she died before, she had been with her friends, and her death had come nearly instantly. This time, her life was leaving her slowly and painfully, and there was no one to hold her hand. She had even been robbed of the comfort of having Legolas hold her as she died. Some force had torn her away from him, and now she lay in a silent graveyard without warmth or friendship to console her.

Despair wracked Buffy's mind and heart, and she wished with all her might that she could be somewhere else, anywhere but where she was. Two tears of grief spilled from her eyes, which she shut tightly. Her thoughts whirled around one word, _Please_, and she begged over and over as she cried.

_Please, please, please_.

How much time passed, she did not know, but it seemed to be an eternity before her pleas were answered. If she thought she was going crazy before, with all the time -and dimension- jumping, she was certain she was bonkers now.

Buffy heard music. It was very faint, barely there at all, and her ears strained to hear it. It sounded so tiny, as if coming from a great distance. Buffy concentrated hard on the sound, willing it to come closer, and the music grew a little louder. She couldn't tell what was making the music at first, but as the sound drew nearer, she heard it more clearly.

A chorus of voices sang in harmony with the night and the wind. No words were sung, just notes, and when Buffy opened her eyes, the voices surged and filled her ears. It was beauty and comfort, strength and sorrow. It was as if water, starlight, rocks, and trees had suddenly come alive and begun to sing. She let the sound wash over her, certain that if such things as angels existed, then these voices must belong to them.

Peace and a blissful numbness took a hold of Buffy's body, and she no longer felt her painful wound. The voices started to die off one by one, until only a single voice remained. Buffy could not see who the voice belonged to, but she could sense a strong presence close by.

"Who are you?" Buffy whispered, her voice trembling.

"_You know me, Slayer. I have long been a part of your life. I have shared in your suffering. __From my halls on the Western__most shores of the world, __I heard your cry_."

The voice was soft, gentle, and feminine, but with low intonations. It was lovely and soothing. Buffy knew she had heard it before. Whenever she was sad, whenever she grieved, this voice grieved alongside her.

"Please," she begged weakly. "Help me."

"_You do not need my help._"

"Huh?" Buffy gasped out. "Um…in case you hadn't noticed…bleeding out my life here."

"_You are not dying. If you wish to end this suffering, then stand up._"

"What? Look, I can't! I can't even wiggle my big toe!" Buffy protested. "I need help!" she squeezed her eyes shut in frustration.

"_Slayer, __open your eyes and look upon me!_"

Buffy obeyed and stared in awe at the hooded figure before her. Standing in the moonlight was a woman in a grey cloak. An unearthly radiance hovered all around her, seeming to emanate from within. All Buffy could see of her features were the grey eyes which pierced through her, revealing the sorrow and wisdom of ages untold. Buffy squinted, her mind reeling and grasping at wisps of memory.

"I know you," she breathed quietly.

"_Just as I know you__ Buffy, daughter__ of Sineya._"

The woman's white hands rose up to slowly draw back the hood of her cloak. Buffy's ears were filled with the music of a deep sadness, and she saw in the woman's face all the suffering and grief of the world. In spite of all the sorrow in it, her face held an indescribable beauty, and Buffy fought the sudden onslaught of tears which threatened to overtake her.

"I don't want to die," Buffy blurted out. The woman smiled kindly, but said nothing for a long time. A few hot tears spilled over onto Buffy's cheeks and ran down her face. The pain in her abdomen was receding slowly, but she knew she didn't have much time before she went completely numb and crossed over the threshold into death once more. She thought regretfully of Dawn

"_Stand, Buffy_," said the woman at last. Buffy blinked at her in disbelief. _Doesn't__ this chick know when to let go?_ _Talk about beating a dead horse,_ she thought.

Before she could utter another protest aloud, however, an unseen force pinned Buffy to the ground, and suddenly the world spun and lurched. A rushing, wooshing sound filled her ears and her vision clouded. Buffy let out a scream of protest. She felt as though she was trapped on a spinning, dipping carnival ride, unable to escape the dizziness and anxiety

The sickening motion came to an abrupt halt, and Buffy hovered tenuously in the air above a peaceful scene of a forest in the daylight. When she could see clearly again, she could just make out a figure in white, sitting in the grass.

Over and over, she heard a voice chanting, "Adonai, Helomi, Pine. The gods to call thee forth from thy majesty." The voice echoed all around her, and Buffy knew the voice as well as she knew her own.

"Willow," she whispered.

Then everything seemed to happen in fast forward motion, and Buffy wanted to put out a hand to stop it but she could not move. She watched as Willow held out her white arm to an approaching fawn, patting it gently. Buffy struggled against her invisible restraints when she saw the dagger in her friend's left hand. She cried out as Willow plunged the weapon into the fawn's heart, and suddenly she was spinning again. Day was turning into night, and Buffy knew what came next.

Horror flooded her soul as she hovered above her grave site. Her friends sat by the grassy mound, their faces garish in the lights of the black candles they held. Willow sat at the fore, her body convulsing with dark magic.

"Osiris, here lies the warrior of the people! Let her cross over!"

The horror turned to icy shock when, instead of a grassy mound, her friends were leaning over Buffy's desiccated and withered corpse. She watched in revulsion as Willow bent over double, gagging, and a large snake slithered out of her mouth.

Buffy felt a strong pull, and unable to stop herself, she went hurtling toward her dead body, until she crashed on the ground. She was now looking up at the night sky and her friends as they watched an orange light surround Willow, who screamed in agony.

"Osiris, release her!"

"No!" Buffy cried. She heard a crash as something broke and spilled. The orange light shot from Willow to Buffy. Buffy looked down at herself. She was covered in blood, but it was not her own. The blood was absorbed into her body, and all at once Buffy was spinning again. She shut her eyes against the sudden lurch, and in an instant, everything stopped, and all was quiet and still.

Buffy was gasping out of sheer panic and terror, her mind forcing her to relive everything she had seen and experienced. She whimpered and shook her head, trying to escape the thoughts, until she felt the soothing presence of the woman in grey. Her body ceased to shake, and her breaths became more measured and slow. Buffy opened her eyes gradually, looking sadly upon the glorious figure. "Why?" she whispered, her voice filled with sorrow.

The woman looked back with all the compassion and kindness in the world. "_You needed to see what has been done,_" she said gently. "_And why you can never return. Your time in this world is at an end_."

"So I am dying," Buffy responded. "Well, that's nothing new."

"_Never again_," the woman replied.

Before she could ask what the woman meant, Buffy noticed a strange sensation coursing through her body. She felt a sudden pull at her insides, nothing painful, but unsettling nonetheless.

The damaged muscles and organs knit together and pure energy released in her body as cells regenerated and tissue re-grew. Her heart, which had been barely beating until now, was pounding in her chest. She could feel the blood pulse and flow through her veins, nourishing her healing organs and skin.

Hesitantly, she pressed her palm over her stomach, and then her back. Where there should have been torn flesh and skin, bits of organs and the slickness of blood, she felt only the smoothness of her own skin, whole and intact.

Buffy sat up gingerly, still touching her newly healed abdomen. She turned stunned, wide eyes to the grey lady. "How did you do this?"

"_It is not I, Slayer. Other magicks are at work here that I have no knowledge of. I only come to give you passage__ to another realm where you will know peace once again.__ Will you take what I offer?_"

The light around the grey lady was growing brighter and brighter, and Buffy was helplessly drawn to her. She stood on shaking legs, never taking her eyes from this powerful being. Drawing a shuddering breath, she asked softly, "What is it?"

"_Look into my eyes, Buffy._"

Buffy looked into those fathomless grey eyes, and stood transfixed as she gazed upon a world of unmatched beauty and serenity. She saw the sea, blue and smooth as glass, lapping upon white shores. Beyond this was a far green country, with rolling hills and enormous, magnificent trees. She was flying towards a sunrise, and in the colors of the sky, she could see a face.

Just before she could discern the fair features of this face obscured by orange and pink clouds, she was drawn backwards and standing again in front of the grey lady in the graveyard.

"Yes," Buffy said, without hesitation.

The grey lady held out her arms to Buffy, and the Slayer stepped into her embrace. Soft arms enclosed about her, and like a child, she bent her head to the lady's breast, closing her eyes and allowing herself to be comforted. The light grew even brighter, until it seemed that they were nowhere at all.

Eventually the light receded, and Buffy's eyes fluttered open. She was still in an embrace, but instead of grey, she saw green. She tentatively moved her head and looked up. Breathing in sharply, Buffy instantly recognized the face she had seen in the sunrise.

"Legolas."

**Translations**

_Daro_ Stop  
_Mellon_ Friend  
_Meleth nîn_ My love  
_Meleth e-Guilen_ Love of my life  
_Avo belo. Avo adlego. Dartho go-__nîn._ Do not fade. Do not let go. Stay with me.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

The sky was lingering in that strange place which lay just before dawn, when the stars cease to glimmer against a black velvet sky and give way to the brighter colors of the sunrise. A new day was about to break upon the small company gathered on the mountainside, but none of them watched for the sun, nor paid any heed to the beauty of the heavens.

All eyes were fixed upon one young girl, lying on the ground as still as death. Her hair, golden as the sun, fanned out behind her, in chilling contrast to the paleness of her face. She was covered in blankets, an almost useless gesture at warding off the cold, for all of them knew that coldness was inevitable as the warmth of life was sapped from her body.

Buffy lay silently but not peacefully on her uninjured side. A small frown wrinkled her brow, as though she was attempting to find the answer to a perplexing riddle. Every few minutes, small shudders wracked her body, stopping as suddenly as they began, and tears would leak from behind her closed eyes.

Elladan knelt nearby, his dark head bent, and his right hand over his heart. He whispered a prayer for Buffy in his own tongue, and hoped that it would be enough. He feared that her soul might become lost, as she had been lost in their world, and though the Elf knew nothing of where Men's souls abided after death, he implored the Valar to give her spirit passage to wherever it was she belonged.

Elrohir was stoking the fire under the kettle, preparing a clean bandage for Buffy's wounds. Although he knew nothing could help her now, as a healer, he felt an obligation to make her as comfortable as he possibly could. While she no longer bled, as the herbal mixture applied to the bandage had stopped the flow, the cloth was saturated, and was no doubt uncomfortable, however unaware she might be of it.

Gimli took upon himself the solemn task of gathering dry brush and dead twigs with which to build a funeral pyre. They had no boat to send her off in the manner that he, Legolas, and Aragorn had done for the slain Boromir. Instead, he had found a suitable slab of rock which they could lay her on, lining it with the wood and dousing it with oil from one of the _Peredhil's_ lanterns. The burning of a body was a strange custom to the Dwarf, but he felt it was a fitting way to honor this warrior-child who had saved his life so valiantly.

Legolas lay next to Buffy, holding one of her hands in both of his own. Fighting against the tears that threatened to fall, he breathed deeply in time with her infrequent, shallow breaths. He knew that when her breathing ceased and her heart beat for the last time, he would not be able to contain his grief; however, for the moment, he wanted to savor every last second that she was alive and near to him.

It seemed as though hours had passed since Buffy had been so suddenly and brutally attacked, when in truth, little time had gone by. Legolas was prepared to lie beside her all day, but he prayed she would not linger too long in her suffering.

She was so still now, and it seemed to Legolas that her waking and strange speech just moments ago was only a dream brought on by his desperate desire for her to survive. He selfishly wished for her to open her eyes and gaze into his, and to hear his name from her lips one last time. Though her mouth moved a little with the tremors of her body, she uttered no words at all. The camp was completely silent as well. No birds sang their morning song, no wind whistled through treetops, and no stone echoed the call of wild things from high upon the mountain.

That was why Legolas jumped as if a large bell had just been rung right beside his ear when Buffy suddenly spoke, her lips forming an almost silent word. She repeated it over and over, her voice becoming a little louder and stronger with each utterance. Numerous tears now streamed down her cheeks and her voice was hoarse and cracked. The word was one Legolas had repeated in his own mind in the first few moments after Buffy had been struck down.

"Please, please, please!"

All activity ceased among the companions, who were amazed that one so close to death could speak at this moment, in so fervent a voice that even the most hard-hearted of listeners would grant any request. All who were standing apart from the two that lay on the ground stepped closer, transfixed with wonder and fear.

Legolas shifted closer to Buffy, and keeping her hand in one of his, reached with the other to her face to wipe away the wetness and offer what comfort he could. Her eyes fluttered, and she stopped speaking abruptly, gasping as if she heard something unexpected. The green eyes of the Slayer opened wide, unseeingly rolling from side to side, searching for whatever had startled her.

"Buffy," Legolas whispered to her entreatingly, wanting to calm her, but his own heart was racing so that he could hardly keep calm himself. He sat up, bringing Buffy with him, so he could cradle her shaking form in his arms.

All at once, Buffy stilled, her eyes focusing on something only she could see, and peacefulness overtook her so that she no longer trembled. It was not the peacefulness of death which the Elf observed, however. Buffy seemed fascinated, awed by whatever had soothed her, and Legolas was in turn fascinated by the tranquility he saw in her face.

As he gazed into Buffy's eyes, Legolas reached for one of her hands, lacing their fingers in an intimate hold. It was then that he heard the music. He froze, listening to the barely audible voices that seemed to come from the top of the mountain. They grew louder, voices that he had heard only in the echo of his waking dreams, the voices of stone and river and wind and tree.

Legolas closed his eyes, a powerful longing filling his being. He longed to see the faces of the owners of those voices, and in his heart he knew every single one of them. The purest, sweetest, most perfect tones shook him to the core, and he opened his eyes, knowing now what Buffy heard. He could only wonder at what she could be seeing now. He could not fathom what this could mean, but for the first time, hope grew in his heart.

The others could not hear what Buffy and Legolas heard. They simply stood silently by, watching and waiting, before returning to their tasks. They only saw the grieving Elf holding his dying love in his arms before she was sundered from him forever, and they wished to give him time to say goodbye.

Elrohir returned to the kettle, readying the materials he would need in order to clean the body, when the Slayer's life finally left her. He shook his head, regretting the prolonging of this event, for he felt that every minute more that she lived was paining both her and Legolas unnecessarily.

Gimli set the twigs he had gathered on the funeral stone, but paused to look sadly back at his dear friend. Elladan finished the prayer he had sent up, then stood, brushing the dust off his clothing, and went to help his brother.

Legolas and Buffy were locked together by their hands, unable to move. Legolas began to see flashes before his eyes. Visions of strange places and people crowded his mind, and he struggled to comprehend them fully. The images were blurry and incomplete. Carved stones set upright in the ground of a place that was quite dark and rather sinister. The slight form of a redheaded woman gently caressing a fawn before raising a knife to slaughter it. There were faces lit by candlelight, and an orange glow that swirled around that same woman, who screamed and convulsed. Blood spilled on the grass, with pieces of a broken urn nearby. He then saw a hand reaching up from under the ground, clutching at the grass and dirt for purchase.

During all this, the only thing Legolas could hear was the solid thump of Buffy's heartbeat in a strong and unbroken rhythm. The skin of her palm against his felt like fire, and he could almost feel the blood rushing through her veins.

Then one final image cleared, and Legolas could see a magnificent lady in grey, her face hidden by the hood of her cloak. Sorrowful music full of pity and compassion filled his ears, and her white hands came up slowly to push back the hood, revealing startling grey eyes, and a face of great beauty and wisdom.

Abruptly, Legolas was thrust out of the vision, and his hold on Buffy's hand was broken. Dizzy with all that he had seen and heard, Legolas took great care to lay Buffy back down gently. He breathed in labored gasps, looking to his companions in question. Had they heard the music? Apparently not, for they were going about their business as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. He looked back down at Buffy, whose eyes were closed once more, her breathing steady and deep.

The Elf was in too much of a daze to speak, let alone think. He could only stare into space, completely unaware of his surroundings or of time. Waking him from this dream-like state was Elrohir, kneeling by Buffy's side to gingerly unwrap the bloody bandage and replace it with a cleaner one.

As he sat there, lost, he was vaguely aware of a loud cry from Elrohir's lips, and the sound of running feet as the others came to stand behind him. They were pointing and exclaiming in amazement, and for a short time, Legolas could not understand what was happening. Gradually, the clouds were lifted from his vision, and he felt the cool morning breeze on his face. He blinked rapidly, and shook his head as if to clear it, then stared, utterly dumbfounded.

The bloody bandage lay open beneath Buffy's body, but no wound showed any evidence as to where the blood had come from. The skin was smooth, whole and unblemished. Without thinking about what he was doing, Legolas carefully turned Buffy over to look at her back, only to find that it looked as if no sword had ever punctured the tissue. Not even the slightest scratch marred her skin. Legolas reached a hand to her face, his mind barely registering the fact that her color had returned. Her warmth practically seared his palm, and her pulse beat steadily in her neck.

The tears flowed freely from his eyes then. He made no attempt to stifle them, and amidst the astounded cries of his friends, he gathered Buffy up in his arms, holding her close to his heart. She was alive!

Some moments later, he felt her stir, and he loosened his grip, fearing that he had cut off her air in his enthusiastic embrace. He held her more gently then, savoring the feel of her head nestled against his chest. Legolas looked to his friends again and was moved to see Gimli weeping into his hands. He nearly laughed to see Elrohir with his mouth wide open in frozen astonishment, and Elladan was on his knees giving ardent thanks to the heavens.

Buffy stirred in his arms again, groaning a little and breathing in sharply. Legolas looked down at her, and he saw her eyes flutter open. She stared for a time at the material of his jerkin, fingering it lightly, before she finally looked up and into his eyes. Overwhelming emotions coursed through him when their eyes met, and he nearly exploded with joy when she spoke his name.

"Legolas."

The Elf smiled, only able to say one thing.

"Buffy."

* * *

Buffy walked, crunching the grass and the fallen leaves underneath her steps. She needed to move, and to relish the sensation of her feet making contact with the earth. Since her strange recovery, she had been existing in some sort of haze of unreality, as if she was awake but caught in a dream. For nearly two whole days, she had sat like a lump on Arod, in front of Legolas, hardly moving or speaking. Everything she saw and heard while she was injured played in her head on a continuous loop, and she was sick of it. So the next time they stopped for water, Buffy refused to get back on the horse and walked ahead of the group, ignoring everyone's protests.

Willfully, she kept her mind on the present, observing the world around her without judgment, as Giles had taught her. Back when Buffy had asked Giles to become her Watcher again, before the conflict with Glory arose and the Keyness of Dawn was discovered, the Englishman had begun to teach her concepts from different philosophies in order to improve her concentration while doing battle. Mindfulness was one of the tools she practiced in those days. This technique was the seventh element of the Noble Eightfold Path in Buddhism, Giles had explained, in which one becomes aware of one's thoughts and actions in the present moment, banishing any judgmental thoughts. It would help her develop insight and wisdom, and keep her aware and alert during fights, so that little would surprise her or throw her off.

Buffy didn't remember what the other seven elements were in the Eighthfold Path. She doubted they even really got to them, what with her mother's illness and protecting Dawn taking precedence over new practices. But Mindfulness was one of the new techniques she really held onto. When the world was falling apart around her, Buffy had learned to keep her mind focused, so that she would not completely fall apart as well.

She supposed that made her seem a little detached, especially after her mother's death. Dawn had accused her of not caring, but all Buffy had been trying to do was keep herself from exploding into a wailing maelstrom of grief and anger. At present, she needed this practice to keep her mind from racing with questions a mile a minute and driving her insane.

More than ever, she wanted Giles there with her. Even if he didn't have any answers for her, he could still just look endearingly befuddled and clean his glasses as he vowed to help her suss out the truth of things.

Buffy caught herself before the tears could well up and spill down her cheeks. She could not think about Giles right now. He couldn't help her. It was better to focus on the colors of the leaves overhead, and the shapes of clouds or the smell of the morning. She thought about the touch of Legolas's spare silk tunic against her skin, turning her mind away from the memory of burning her bloody, torn sweater.

Sometimes she thought of things so basic, like her footsteps, whenever she began to overwhelm herself with unanswerable questions. _Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot.__ I hear the horses. The Elves are talking quietly. Gimli coughed.__ There's a breeze blowing now, and it's moving the tree branches.__ Some kind of small bird just flew past me.__ Why the hell didn't I die?_

Buffy ceased her steps as the anxiety threatened to overtake her. Setting her jaw squarely, she tried to push the thoughts from her mind. Everything she had seen and experienced came rushing back to her and would not leave. She covered her eyes with her hand, and all she could see was Willow. Willow killing the fawn, Willow with the creature's blood on her face, a snake coming out of her mouth, and blood everywhere. Then darkness, complete and utter darkness with walls closing in on her.

A hand on her shoulder startled her so much, she nearly struck out and knocked Legolas senseless. His elven reflexes saved him from a killer of a headache with double vision on the side. Buffy relaxed a little, but still felt on edge, breathing hard, and stared at the Elf in whose arms she had awoken.

She hadn't been able to even talk to him in that moment. All she could do was ask for a new shirt, but as soon as she had spoken, the other two Elves started to pepper her with questions. Legolas and Gimli rushed forward to fend off the twins' interrogation, before the prince, satisfied that the Elven lords would not bother the Slayer, was able to grant Buffy's request. Gimli went so far as to place himself between Buffy and the twins, guarding her while she changed dazedly into the new garment. Buffy, on the other hand, knew they had meant no harm, they were merely amazed to see that she had somehow been healed after being mortally wounded. Even in a magical world such as theirs, things like that just didn't happen often.

Soon, a cup of some sort of colorless substance was pressed to her lips, and without thought, she drank it down. In an instant, her body had been filled with warmth and vibrancy, and she was nudged out of her complacent state. She had felt almost content then, but she still did not speak.

Buffy looked at Legolas now, wishing with all her heart that he could tell her what had happened to her, but she had a sinking feeling that she already had the answer. Again and again, Willow's face passed through her mind's eye, and she resisted the impulse to scream and strike out at it. What had her friend done to her?

"Buffy? Are you well?" Legolas asked her, his face a mask of concern. Since the moment she had opened her eyes and spoken his name, Legolas had been filled with a burning need to speak with her about what had happened, and about what he had seen and heard. He was almost sure that the Valar had intervened, but he wanted to know what they had said to Buffy.

It had taken every ounce of control within himself to refrain from kissing her senseless on that miraculous morning. Legolas wanted with all of his being to call her what he had named her in his heart, his _Heryn Laer_, Lady of Summer. He yearned to whisper to her all the love he felt for her, but he stopped his mouth. Buffy had just returned from the brink of death, and just as he had vowed not to burden her with his tender feelings, he could not now break that promise.

None of this had anything to do with why he had decided to approach her now. Legolas had watched her in silence for two days. He had let her be, knowing how confused she was, for he could feel it through their bond. He had Gimli to help him keep the _gwenyn_ from pestering her with questions, not that he could blame their avid curiosity, but he would not have her disturbed.

After two days of no speech from her lips, however, he was determined to reach out to her and bring her back to the land of the living. It seemed as though she thought she ought to be among the spirits of the dead, which did not surprise him. He was heartened when she wanted to stop being motionless and declined to ride, but he also worried she might suddenly bolt from them.

When Legolas saw her steps falter and felt her heart swell with sorrow, he swiftly dismounted and approached her. The silence needed to end, and he would see to it that she confided in him. Buffy needed him as a friend now more than ever, and he would not fail her. Luckily, he was able to duck her sudden reflex when he startled her, so he felt he was off to a good start.

Buffy studied Legolas's eyes, seeing his desire to draw her out and help her. She didn't know what he thought he could do, though, and she was filled with a leaden despair which she could not shake. He stepped closer to her, as if he sensed her pain, and she self-consciously turned away.

Behind her, Elladan and Elrohir sat on their horses, silently watching her. She really wished they would stop doing that. Ever since she had recovered, they seemed to regard her with something akin to awe, and it was starting to creep her out. She supposed she couldn't blame them, really. Gimli nodded to her and spurred his pony forward, passing the spot where she and Legolas stood.

She looked back at Legolas, who was standing near her with his horse, his hand on the animal's neck. Buffy gave him what was supposed to have been a reassuring smile, but it ended up looking like a little, pained grimace instead. Giving up the pretense of well being, she shook her head slowly.

"Are you well?" the Elf repeated softly.

"No, not really," she answered quietly, before continuing on her way along the path.

"Wait," Legolas said as she quickly walked away from him. He bid his horse to follow as he caught up to Buffy. She did not turn to him as he came up beside her, but kept moving, her eyes on the ground. "Buffy, stop."

"Left, right, left, right," she muttered, ignoring him.

"Buffy!" Legolas reached out and grabbed her arm, trying to still her, but she shook off his grip.

"Legolas grabbed me, I'm very annoyed, no, wait, that's judgmental, just keep walking." Buffy increased her pace.

Legolas was growing very concerned with Buffy's state of mind, even more so now that she was muttering nonsensically. He cut her off and stood in front of her, holding her by the arms, and forced her to look at him.

Buffy glared at him furiously. She so did not want to talk to anyone for the next few millennia. "Legolas, I don't want to have to hurt you, but if you don't move away from me right now "

"You will strike me?" he finished for her challengingly. "Be my guest. At least it will be a change from the lifeless wraith you have been for the last two days."

"Lifeless? Me?" Buffy raised her eyebrows in mock innocence. "Are you kidding? I'm full of life, in case you hadn't noticed. Skewer me, drown me, drop me from a tower, I just don't die! I'm freaking Rasputin!"

"Who?" Legolas let his confusion cause him to lose his hold on Buffy, and she slipped past him. Again, he found himself running to keep up with her, but even the Slayer couldn't outrun an Elf.

"Doesn't matter," she called back over her shoulder, and then jumped in surprise at his close proximity. "Didn't I leave you somewhere back there?" she snapped.

"I will not be ignored, Buffy!"

"When did you turn into Glenn Close?"

"Stop this!" Legolas shouted, and he grabbed her again, this time pushing her none too gently up against a tree. "You need to talk to me."

"Don't wanna," Buffy replied petulantly, and she shoved Legolas away from her. He grabbed at her as she moved to go past him. He held fast to her arm even as she tried to pull it from his grasp, and, despite his elven grace, he lost his balance and knocked her to the ground, landing on top of her with a painful grunt.

As they lay on the earth, their bodies intimately pressed together, both Buffy and Legolas had trouble regaining control over their breathing. Buffy's face turned deep scarlet, and, after gathering her wits, she tried to push him off her. However, some devil had taken hold of Legolas's mind, and he pinned her back down, gripping each of her wrists, and putting his weight on her, careful not to cut off her air.

"Now you must speak with me, for I will not let you up until you do," he crowed in triumph. He could not help but enjoy the feel of her underneath his body, and he promised to thoroughly chastise himself later.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" she raged, struggling to get up. In truth, however, Buffy was not trying very hard. She was furious, and in a terrible state of mind, but really, she could have thrown him off at any time. _This is so inappropriate, it could make the evening news_, she told herself, but she couldn't quite convince herself to really push him off. After two days of near total numbness and confusion, physical contact like this was…nice.

"Thranduílion?"

Legolas looked up from his position on the ground. Elladan and Elrohir had caught up with them, and were now looking down at the Mirkwood Elf and the Slayer locked in a combative embrace. Meeting their respective disapproving and mocking stares, he flushed and stood up. He was somewhat glad of the interruption, as his enjoyment of his position on top of Buffy would have shortly become evident to her.

"She will not speak with me," he said rather childishly, and he was immediately embarrassed by his tone.

Buffy stood, brushing leaves and dust off of her clothing, and frowned at her erstwhile attacker. "Troll," she uttered, but only half-heartedly.

"Is this how Thranduíl conducts disputes within his court?" Elrohir inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Or perhaps it is how things are done where Buffy is from," Elladan added teasingly.

"Oh, shut up," Buffy grumbled, and she turned to follow the path that Gimli had ridden ahead of them.

Legolas swiftly mounted Arod, and trotted alongside of Buffy, while Elladan and Elrohir rode behind him. "You must tell me what it was that I saw, Buffy!" he exclaimed.

"What you saw when?" Buffy replied, still walking and not looking at him.

"When you were dying. I saw…and I heard…things I cannot fully explain. Who was the red-haired woman? The one who killed the fawn?"

Buffy stopped dead in her tracks. Slowly, she pivoted around to face Legolas, staring up at him with wide, but wary eyes. "You saw that?" she whispered.

Legolas nodded. "Who was she?"

Buffy was too stunned to be ornery this time. She cast her eyes downward and closed them. "Willow," she replied. "My best friend."

"She is the one who raised you then? She performed that dark magic and brought you to life again?" Legolas dismounted once more, standing before Buffy, but giving her space so that she would not balk at his questioning.

"Yeah."

Elrohir moved suddenly to dismount, his interest piqued intensely. "This is how she survived? Someone used dark magic to heal her?" he asked disbelievingly.

"No," said Buffy and Legolas at once.

"Then what did you mean?" Elladan demanded, his brow gathered in a fierce frown.

Buffy sighed deeply. This was so not how she wanted to spend her day. She glanced at Legolas, who put an encouraging hand on her shoulder. "Do I have to?" she said in a tiny voice. Legolas gave a noncommittal shrug, but Buffy could tell that he wanted her to tell them.

Buffy turned to the twins. "In my world, I died fighting this evil god, and my friends brought me back to life. I'm really unhappy about it, it was horrible, and I don't want to talk about it. I'm…I'm not sure why I survived that attack two days ago. Something's going on with me, and when I was dying, I had a vision…but it was also a memory…" She trailed off wonderingly, and looked back at Legolas. "Did you see her too?"

Legolas moved closer to her, dropping his hand from her shoulder and taking hers. "I did. The lady in grey. I heard her music, too. Do you know who she is?"

"I think she brought me here. She told me…I couldn't stay where I was, and she could bring me peace again. Then, she showed me this beautiful place." Buffy shook her head. "I've never seen anything like it. So peaceful and green. There were voices singing, and I saw-" Buffy stopped herself, seeming to come out of a trance. "She said she heard my pain from her halls. 'On the Westernmost shores of the world', she said." Buffy searched Legolas's eyes with her own. "Who is she?"

Elladan and Elrohir, who had been fervently listening to Buffy's tale, looked at each other, then back at the two standing close together on the ground. Their faces were filled with a mixture of wonder and disbelief, for they knew of whom she spoke, and could not fathom how Buffy had garnered the favor of such a powerful being.

"She is Nienna," Legolas told her reverently. "one of the Valar, and very powerful. She weeps for the suffering of the world. She comforts the spirits of the dead, who wait in the Halls of Mandos. Those who hearken to her learn pity and compassion and hope."

Buffy blinked back tears, remembering the comfort she had felt in the presence of the Grey Lady, as she had come to think of her. Legolas squeezed her hand and let go, allowing her to process this new information. Buffy backed away a few steps, not wanting to talk anymore. She could tell the twins were regarding her intently, and she dearly wanted to be alone. With Legolas.

"Walk with me," she said to him.

"Gladly," he replied.

**Author's Note:** If you are a Buddhist, or are otherwise very knowledgeable about Buddhism, then bless you. You know much more than I do. I have developed an understanding of Mindfulness that I learned from a book called "Buddhism for Mothers". I am not a Buddhist, and have not studied extensively. However, I do use Mindfulness as a way to calm my mind whenever the stress of motherhood threatens to overwhelm me. It also helps when I am suffering from OCD or depression. If what I have described here seems incorrect to you, then please forgive me. The above definition is my own understanding, and is also based on a little research. If you wish to share yours, then please feel free to do so.

**Sindarin translations:**

_Peredhil_ Half-Elves

_Gwenyn _ Twins

Thanks to Jennifer Stampede, AnaththeGODDESS, and AJ, my betas!


	29. Chapter 29

READERS: Please accept my most sincere apologies for taking so freaking long to grind out this chapter. There were three or four separate attempts and I just had to take a break from it so I could write something that worked. Thankfully, ideas started to come to me, albeit rather slowly, but here it is.

To whoever nominated my story for an award: THANK YOU!!!! KISSES AND HUGGLES TO YOU!!!! I appreciate it more than I can say. It's such an honor, and I am truly grateful and humbled.

Thanks so much to my patient beta chicks: Angel, AnaththeGODDESS and Jennifer Stampede. Thank you my lovelies!

And now, back to the story. Fasten your seat belts, readers. I'm revving up the engine!

Chapter 29

_What now?_

Any comfort that Buffy had hoped to gain by keeping company with Legolas was lost in the anxiety churning relentlessly inside her. After all the stunning revelations made over an hour ago, Buffy had plenty to say, but no way to say it. The silence between Buffy and Legolas stretched and thickened and became a living, breathing entity. Her thoughts raced from one extreme to another, and she became easily lost to them. Despite this, she was acutely aware of the Elf's presence, and her mouth was constantly poised to speak, but no words came to her. The monster silence surrounded her and clutched her in its fist, rendering her mute. The looming quiet was tempered only by the noise of their feet, crunching the dead leaves underneath, and the chirp of crickets waking to greet the early evening.

_Now what?_

The questions tumbled around Buffy's mind, making her incapable of even trying to seek calm in the practice of mindfulness. Nothing could be gained in wishing that she had never revealed her experience to Legolas and the others, Buffy knew, but wish it, she did. It had only served to bring up more questions, and the answers were too terrible for her to contemplate.

She felt as though she was staring eternity in the face, and nothing had ever frightened her so much. What she dealt with now was completely different from what she had found after her first, true death. Buffy shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She would not let her thoughts form the picture that they threatened when it came to what had been done to her, and what her future held for her. She could not bear to even think what it all meant.

Buffy shuddered, fighting off the dizziness that threatened to engulf her whenever her thoughts led her down this path. A gentle touch at her elbow steadied her, and she looked up sharply to see Legolas right by her side. His eyes were full of concern, but he said nothing. _He can't think of anything to say either,_ she realized. It wasn't surprising considering everything that had gone down the last few days. _Plus__ somehow he got sucked into the freak show that was my near__death experience. That can't have been __pleasant_

Another set of questions began to plague her, questions about how Legolas had seen into her mind, though she didn't doubt for a moment that he spoke the truth. _He saw my deer__-__killing, huge snake__-__regurgitating, dead-raising best friend. You can't make stuff like that up._ Buffy couldn't fathom how her vision had become multi-player, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know how it had happened.

_And if he saw all that, what else did he see?_ The thought made Buffy's heart jump into her throat. She glanced at him surreptitiously. He was looking ahead, leading the way down the path to where they would stop for the night, some place named after the holly trees that grew all over it. Buffy peered up at the trees and recognized the pointy green leaves and red berries she saw mostly at Christmas time. Most of the holly wreaths that decorated her neighborhood were fakes, and Buffy wasn't sure she'd ever seen a real holly tree up close and personal.

Instinctively, she reached out to touch a low branch, pulling gently at the leaves, and examining the berries with her fingers. She felt a pang of homesickness. It wasn't holiday rush yet, but back when her mother was alive, it would be about time to make the Christmas card list, get a picture taken for the cards, and start shopping. Mom had never liked to leave present-buying until the last minute, but Buffy usually found herself scrambling a day or two before Christmas Eve, trying to buy the perfect gift for each of her loved ones with what was left of her allowance. Buffy's heart ached, thinking of the last Christmas she'd celebrated with her mother, sister, and friends.

For one beautiful day, they were all family, exchanging gifts and sharing food. It was a perfect day in Buffy's memory, even though one of the pumpkin pies met its end on the kitchen floor. She had her mother, her new sister, the Watcher she saw as a father, her best friend Willow, and her big brother Xander. Sweet Tara and even Anya made up the rest of the unit. It wasn't Currier and Ives, but it was home and it was family. Never again would Buffy be among those who were the most important people in the world to her.

She rubbed her thumb over the smooth green leaf and let go, watching the branch spring back into place. Buffy felt rooted to the spot where she stood, her eyes fixed on the tree. Something was building inside her, a grief that ran deep into her bones and coursed through her blood. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, and, taking a deep breath, she forced herself to keep walking, letting Legolas guide her along the path that the others had left. The twins and Gimli were scouting ahead for a place to stop for the night, and she and the Elf were taking their time in catching up. The only way to get through this, she decided, was to become completely numb.

Legolas made sure Buffy was steady on her feet, but he kept his hand on her arm. Just touching her and knowing she was warm and alive filled him with unspeakable joy. He could not revel in that feeling, however, knowing how confused and lost she was. When it seemed she would stumble and he reached out to steady her, she turned to look at him in surprise, as if she hadn't realized he was there with her. Her eyes held a haunted look that disturbed him more than he could say. He wished he could think of something comforting to say to her, but all that came to mind were questions that she did not know the answers to. He suspected that she feared the answers, and was trying hard to push aside the questions whirling around in her mind.

All of this was beyond his realm of experience. Long-lived as Elves were, when they were slain they remained so until the time came for them to be reborn if they wished. As Legolas had yet to experience death and rebirth, he could hardly relate to Buffy's situation. In any case, the two scenarios were completely dissimilar.

According to Buffy's history, this was her third return from death. In all his life, Legolas had not known of anyone to come back to life twice, or recover so quickly from such grievous mortal wounds. She had not really died this time , but she had come very close. Legolas vowed to himself that if it was in his power to prevent such a thing from happening again, he would do so, for her as much as for himself.

It was difficult for him to resist, but Legolas tried not to look at her too much. He did not want to make her uncomfortable with his constant glances, and he was afraid he would give away too much of his own feelings if she caught him in an unguarded moment. He almost stopped moving when it suddenly occurred to him that he had already given something away which he had sworn to conceal. He couldn't fault himself for it, for at that moment, it had seemed that the only way he could make her talk to him was to tell her what he had seen inside her mind. Now, however, he faced the definite possibility that she would ask questions, and he was unsure as to how he would answer her.

Unconsciously, he turned again to look at her, his gaze anxious but guarded. He needn't have worried that she might see anything of significance in his eyes, he thought. Buffy walked steadily and without impediment, but her eyes were clouded over with the thoughts and worries of one who was worlds away. Gradually, Buffy seemed to become aware of her surroundings, and began looking up at the evergreen holly trees for which the region was famous. He smiled when she reached out to touch the leaves and fingered them gently, a wistful expression coming over her features.

Legolas stopped walking in order to let her examine the tree and watched as the look in her eyes spoke of happier times. It wasn't long, however, before her expression hardened, and she let the leaf spring back from her grasp. He felt coldness come over him, and knew that she was trying to deaden her feelings, to keep them from taking her over. He was not sure if it would be better for her to open the floodgates of her emotions and get it over with, or to stem the tide, should the overwhelming thoughts and feelings break her.

Feeling the void within her soul, Legolas knew he could not let Buffy shut herself away from the world and become irrevocably lost to him and all who cared for her. He knew he must awaken her emotions somehow, and take on some of the sorrow and confusion that weighed her down. That was, after all, a part of the responsibility he had assumed when he had awoken her from her deadly sleep all those days ago.

What he did next wasn't even a decision that he came to; he simply found himself stopping their progress and pulling her around to face him. Buffy's eyes met his, and he recoiled at how devoid of life and brightness they were. Even in her saddest moments, her eyes revealed her soul and the depths of her emotions. Now , he felt as though he was gazing into the eyes of one who walked but no longer lived.

Determined that he was doing the right thing, he drew her closer and raised one hand to her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. She closed her eyes, steeling herself against his touch, but he persisted and brought his other hand to her face. Legolas did not know whether this touch would evoke a warm response or if it would make her angry. At this point, he didn't think it mattered, so long as she felt something.

He felt her tremble slightly, and, spurred on by that small success, he drew her into his embrace, whispering to her in his native tongue. Soothing words poured from him into her ear, and he tenderly kissed the side of her head when she relaxed against him further. He could feel her fighting the tide of emotions she was holding back. Her hands balled into fists and she raised them against his chest, but he pressed her closer, resolved not to let her pull away into her own world where no one could reach her.

_"Avo dhelio le, nethig. Avo 'osto. Le athaeannathon. Estelio enni."_He felt Buffy shudder and gasp, as if she fought off sobs, and without knowing what he did, his lips sought her temple and pressed a tender kiss to her skin. Warmth spread through him at the contact, and he heard Buffy draw in a sharp breath. She stiffened in his arms, but she did not pull away.

Encouraged by her response, Legolas kissed her temple again, this time letting his lips linger for a longer time. Buffy rooted against his chest, letting his touch soothe her and his hands begin to caress her back and shoulders. She moved further into his embrace, and Legolas sensed the fortress she had constructed start to crumble stone by stone.

Buffy didn't know what it was he said to her, but it was easy to guess. When he had taken hold of her and touched her face, her first instinct was to pull away and run from him. She had just made the decision to shut down all systems, and she didn't want her firewall breached. But something about the way he caressed her cheek broke through her defenses, and she allowed herself to feel something.

The tears were gathering behind her eyes, and she struggled to keep them at bay. When Legolas put his arms around her, that was almost enough to make her give in, but Buffy stubbornly tensed her hands and body, even though she let him embrace her. I am not going to cry! she thought resolutely. No matter how nice this feels or how good he smells. Buffy held back the tears, but she could not deny that her deadened emotions had been awakened. She decided then and there that she would revel in how good it felt to be held by him. If she had to feel something, this was the best thing to feel, and wherever the moment led, she would run with it.

This kind of contact was not exactly the comfort Legolas had intended to give, and in the back of his mind a warning sounded, but it was muffled by the stirrings in his body and soul that the touch induced. Buffy's hands unclenched and her fingers moved tentatively on his chest as she turned her head to the side and shuddered again. Legolas stroked her hair softly, and Buffy arched her neck, offering her brow to his lips, which he then pressed there, more vehemently than before.

He felt desperate now, his love for her welling up in his heart, and the feelings that were awakening in her resounded within him as well. There was want and sorrow and need and confusion, and the Elf's head swam with the sensuousness of the feel of her against him and her response. She slowly moved to look up at him, stopping when their eyes met.

They froze, each locked in the other's gaze, and it felt like an eternity that they stood with their faces so close but not touching. Buffy's lips parted slightly, and her breath became short as the heat between them flared up to a roaring blaze. She pressed herself to him, her hands moving up to clutch his shoulders. The warning in Legolas's mind became louder, but before he could think of what to do, Buffy stood on her tiptoes and softly brushed her lips against his.

She drew back slightly to gauge his reaction, and when she saw how his eyes had darkened, she leaned up again, this time applying a little more pressure from her mouth to his. Legolas responded, kissing her back, a little shyly, Buffy thought. As they gently nipped at each others lips, he grew bolder, angling his head and encircling her completely in his arms so he could take control of the kiss.

Buffy felt like she had molten lava coursing through her veins. She tilted her head, kissing him back with equal fervor, sliding one of her hands from his shoulder to hold the back of his neck. She let him be the one in control, but she was starting to lose hers. The kiss was almost a tease, hinting at something more to come, but he was taking his time getting there. _This is nice and all, but he kisses very politely,_ she thought, her frustration making her antsy. _I don't wanna be polite._

As tame as Buffy thought this was, this kiss was like nothing Legolas had ever experienced. In the few encounters where he had shared kisses with _elleths_ in his father's court, the kisses had always been playful and brief, based on curiosity and attraction and nothing more. He had never cared for any of those ladies as much as he cared about Buffy. His blood pounded in his ears, his body hardened, and the urge to hold her as closely as possible became an abject need.

Legolas realized that he needed to put a stop to this before they got too carried away. Just as he began to pull away from her, however, he suddenly found himself pushed roughly backwards until he crashed into the trunk of a tall tree, which shook with the force of his impact. Buffy was right on top of him, and the look in her eye was that of an animal about to devour its prey. The warning bells in his head could no longer be ignored as she lunged at him, taking his face in her hands and attacking his mouth.

"Buffy!" he gasped just as her open mouth closed over his, and a thrilling shock shot through him when he felt her tongue exploring him. For just a moment he indulged this incredibly carnal feeling and let his tongue tangle with hers. But suddenly, Buffy's hands were everywhere, and Legolas became dizzy. He was finding it very difficult to breathe, as if he were drowning, and he realized that Buffy was holding him much too tightly.

_I want, I want, I __want,_ he heard echoing over and over in his mind, and he was not sure whether the thoughts were hers or his. Buffy broke their kiss and moved downward, pressing kisses to his neck and jaw. Her fingers began to fumble with the hooks of his jerkin. She succeeded in releasing a few, and then moved to the laces of his leggings.

She smoothed her palm down his hard length, bringing him crashing down from the heights of passion and into the stark fear of what she was about to do. He did not fear her, he feared himself in that moment, knowing what she wanted and what he wanted as well. His body thrilled to the intimate touch, but his heart and mind knew it was wrong, and he must not allow her to go further.

Being one of the Eldar, his spirit was the master of his body, and not the other way around, so he was able to awaken himself from this whirlwind of desire and take control. He grasped her wrists and pulled them up to his chest, holding her firmly away from him. She looked at him in shock, her eyes completely dazed and heady with passion. She did not move, she only panted and stared at him as he slowly regained control over his senses and slowed his breathing.

"No, Buffy," he told her softly. "This must not continue."

Buffy's head was buzzing, her body so heated that she felt disoriented for a full minute before what had just happened registered in her brain. She gulped in air, and stared up in bewilderment at the Elf. Only in battle had she ever been so single-minded in her purpose as when she had realized how much she wanted Legolas just then. Her heart was pounding, the need for him still pulsing through her veins, and she put up her hand to touch his face.

"Why not?" she whispered, leaning towards him again. "Don't you think it would be good?"

"Buffy, no!" Legolas cried desperately, afraid that if she kissed him again he would be dragged back into the almost uncontrollable passion she ignited in him. He pushed her away, a little too roughly, and she staggered back. Gathering his wits, he moved forward and steadied her, but kept his distance. "I am sorry. I did not mean for it to go this far," he told her regretfully.

When he had pushed her from him, it felt to Buffy as if she had been slapped with a wave of cold water. Anger stirred in her, replacing her desire, and tears welled up in her eyes. "What do you mean?" she bit out darkly, shaking off his hold.

Legolas felt her anger, and he did not blame her. He was angry with himself as well, but was mystified at what had driven her to such boldness moments before. This experience was so new to him, but he knew that maidens did not behave this way, or at least he did not believe that they did. Stumbling over his words, he said foolishly, "I did not wish for that to happen. Please forgive me, I have done you a great wrong, and I—"

"Oh, you didn't?" Buffy snapped indignantly. "Why did you get all soft and kissy with me then?"

Legolas could not answer her. To tell her that he had known she was shutting her emotions down would be to give too much away. He blushed with shame, realizing that he had let his love for her cloud his judgment and lead her astray. Mortals' passions were more easily tapped than Elves', and his actions had whipped her already turbulent emotions into a frenzy, causing her to act outlandishly.

"Are you gonna answer me, or are you going to stand there and look like a fish out of water all night?" said Buffy. "I don't think I'm crazy, because I'm pretty sure you wanted me just as much as I wanted you just now. It wasn't hard to figure out, if you know what I mean."

Legolas blushed an even deeper shade of red as her meaning sunk in, and unconsciously his hands went to the laces of his leggings to retie them as he tried to think. "You do not know what you are saying," he mumbled. "I was merely trying to help you, and I know that you were only carried away by everything you are feeling." He glanced up at her, but she was only staring at him blankly. Searching his mind frantically to find a way to explain himself without giving away their bond, he took a deep breath, and began again.

"You have been through so much in the past two months. What happened a few days ago must have been terrifying, and I know you must be in agony." He paused, feeling very uneasy as she continued to stare at him coldly. "When we were walking under the trees, I could see in your eyes how you suffered, and then you suddenly seemed to turn to stone. I could not let you do that, so I held you, trying to help you feel something other than pain or, worse than that, nothing."

Buffy's eyes released two tears as the hurt coursed through her. "That was a pity kiss?" she whispered in an injured voice.

Legolas frowned. He had not explained himself as well as he had thought. She did not give him a chance to correct her assumption, however, as she buried her face in her hands and began to pace around erratically.

Buffy struggled to get herself under control, but the tears were flowing more freely now. Her hands fisted in her hair, and she wanted to smack herself for being such a fool. He had nailed everything on the head just then. He knew exactly what she had been trying to do, and he had succeeded in awakening her deadening emotions, but he had also succeeded in making a fool of her. Her budding desire for him had flared up, fueled by the turmoil inside her, and the only thing she wanted to feel was him. She wanted the whole romance novel moment with him moving against her, skin to skin, with the bodice-ripping and the heaving breasts and the thrusting of his manhood—elfhood. Buffy had felt like it was the only thing that would keep her from the void.

But he didn't really want her at all. She supposed as a mere mortal, she rather disgusted him. She wasn't an Elf, she didn't have the fabulous hair and automatic hygiene that he seemed to possess. What he must think of her now, she thought. She was utterly humiliated on top of being completely depressed, confused, and back from the beyond. It was a sucky thing to be.

Legolas moved towards her hesitantly, concerned for her, and wanting desperately for her to understand him. "Buffy," he called softly, and she ceased her movements, but did not look at him. "Had we…continued…the consequences would have been quite serious." A stillness came over her at that, and he went on. "It would have meant that we had married."

Buffy looked up sharply at that, confused. "You mean if we had done it, with the sex?"

Legolas blanched at her words, but nodded.

"Married?" she echoed incredulously, and looked away from him. "That's extreme." She laughed ruefully. "Don't worry, I wouldn't have held you to it."

"You misunderstand me, Buffy. When Elves take part in bodily union, it is as binding as any hand-fasting ceremony or exchange of rings. Had we…consummated our…passion, you and I would have been bound to each other for eternity."

Buffy turned back to look at Legolas again, sure he was joking. When she saw just how serious he was, her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. The implications of what he was saying to her started to pile up on her one by one. "So doing that…would have meant…you and me…we would have been…and you're not…so that means…you've _never_?"

"It is forbidden. We do not take such things so casually," Legolas stated rather proudly.

A ridiculous laugh bubbled up in Buffy's throat, and she started to convulse. "You're a—a three-thousand-year-old virgin!" The laughter escalated, making her bend over double. Losing her balance, she crouched , and held her stomach as she began to laugh and cry at the same time.

"And now, _ha ha_! Now you think I'm some huge, enormous, slut-bomb!" Buffy shouted, her laughter quickly turning into sobs. "Thank God you stopped me when you did, or you'd be saddled with some whorish, smelly mortal!"

Legolas rushed to her, injured by the hurtful words she directed at herself. He knelt beside her, and took hold of her shoulders. "Buffy! Please!" he said, unable to think of anything else. His heart constricted in regret for the state she was in. He had been so selfish and thoughtless. Love had made him a fool.

Buffy looked up at him suddenly, a wild look in her eyes. "You know, Legolas, if you really wanted to make me feel something, all you had to do was this!"

Before he could react, Buffy had reached behind him, taken one of his knives, and cut a deep slash across her left arm. He stared in horror at the wound, but Buffy only laughed and fell on her knees.

"I know I'm not supposed to touch these," she said mockingly, "but we know what happens when Buffy gets hurt. It all goes away." She watched as the blood flowed from the cut to splash in a pool on the ground. She raised her head, her expression almost maniacal, and Legolas's heart pounded in fear. "If my taking your weapon makes you mad, why don't you just stab me in the gut with the other one?" she taunted. "Or better yet, why don't you cut off my head and see what happens? Will I grow a new one, or will that finally be it for this Slayer?"

She raised the knife to injure herself again, but this time Legolas was ready for her, and he wrenched it from her grasp, tossing it aside. "Buffy, why?" he said, pulling her up and trying to hold her in order to calm her down.

"Don't!" Buffy screamed, tearing herself from his hands. She staggered back, holding out her injured arm. Before their eyes, the cut began to close itself, forming a jagged, pink line which then faded, revealing perfect, unblemished skin. "Hey, look at that!" Buffy's tone was almost whimsical as she watched the phenomenon take place.

Legolas watched her helplessly. He felt her suffering deep within his essence. It was too acute for him to do anything to ease her soul using their bond. The pain weakened him, and he saw her face crumble as she started to weep.

"What does this mean, Legolas?" Buffy asked pleadingly, her eyes and face wet with tears. "What does this mean?"

He could not answer. He was afraid to.

And she ran.

Translations:

_Avo dhelio le, nethig. Avo 'osto. Le athaeannathon. Estelio enni._ Do not hide from me, little one. Do not be afraid. I will help you. Please trust in me.


	30. Chapter 30

Author's note: Oh, my but this chapter took a long time to write! It wasn't so much writer's block as it was writer's constipation. (Sorry for the icky visual) I am working on Chapter 31 already, so don't despair, I'll try not to take so long for that one to get posted.

So much happened during the interval between the last chapter and this one. Christmas, a trip to Phoenix, a trip to L.A. and visits with old friends, and a sojourn to Disneyland with my husband, the in-laws, and our three-year old. She ate it up. She started preschool after that, and then we joined the cast of the musical i1776/i, and I spent the last few months playing Abigail Adams. It was a phenomenal experience, and we had a wonderful time, and great audiences. That show closed last weekend, and now we've got a Cole Porter revue coming up.

Now, I'm trying to get in shape for the fall, when we're going to try and expand our family by one. (One, do you hear me? one, none of this multiple birth business!) Can I handle it? I don't know. One child is already so much work! So I want to finish this story already! For goodness sake, it's been nearly FIVE YEARS!!

The usual thanks to my wonderful beta, AnaththeGODDESS, you rock!!

Chapter 30

Buffy didn't know how long she'd been running. She was fueled by all the emotions roiling inside of her, and it felt as if she couldn't have stopped even if she wished. She ran hard, impeded now and then by branches which tore at her skin and clothing, but nothing mattered more than escape. She knew there was nowhere she could go where suddenly everything that had occurred in the past few months would be untrue. She was not going to wake up to find her mother still alive and well and making her pancakes. She was not going to suddenly find herself, back in time at the age of fifteen, watching as a creepy guy in a suit approached some other unwary girl on the steps of Hemery High with a briefcase full of destiny.

The destiny was hers and no one else's, but Buffy couldn't believe that this was where she was meant to be. Her destiny was fulfilled when she jumped from that tower, sacrificing her life for the world, and her sister. This was something she knew more than anything.

The Slayer skidded to a halt, sending rocks and fallen branches spiraling downward, her survival instinct kicking in when she saw she was about to tumble headfirst over a cliff into a dark oblivion below. Her lungs were on fire, and her nerves were numb after receiving that sharp, electric jolt just before disaster was averted. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, and fought to regain some sense of sanity or, at the very least, remember how to breathe. She grew dizzy, feeling as if she were whirling through space, although her feet were on solid ground. She was afraid to open her eyes, and she tried to think of something, anything that would anchor her mind.

As she stood upon the precipice, her mind took her back in time to the night of her resurrection when she found herself once again atop that tower built by Glory's crazy people. She had been looking down at the place where her body had lain broken and peaceful. She remembered how the 

night wind whipped her tangled mass of hair around her face, and the chill had cut into her newly formed skin. Even then, she'd been too disoriented to notice how her wounded hands had healed twice as fast as before.

Everything had been so clear and shiny the night she died. Her whole life had led her to that moment. In that final act, everything that she had worked so hard to accomplish in her time as the Slayer filled her with the knowledge that she was now done, her struggle over. She would leave the world behind and go forward to find peace. Was that any different than what she had done that night when the Grey Lady made her offer? She had made the same decision, basically. She had left the Hellmouth unguarded, had left behind friends, Watcher and sister in order to rest and just be without any of the burdens of life wearing on her. Buffy knew the answer was yes, it was very different. Before, she had sacrificed her life to save the world and the people that she loved, instead of allowing her sister to die. This time, it was all for herself.

"_Buffy?" _

"Dawn?"

"_Is it you? I mean, really?" _The hope mingled with disbelief in her sister's voice made Buffy's heart twist.

"I don't know, Dawn. I don't know if it's me."

"_You're here…with me. Whatever happened to you, whatever you've been through…it's over now."_

A strange sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob escaped Buffy's throat. "It'll never be over."

"_Buffy, please listen to me. You told me I had to be strong. And I've tried. But it's been so hard without you." _Dawn's voice broke with grief.

"I'm so sorry Dawnie. Please forgive me." The Slayer fought back tears, nearly choking on them.

"_I promise I'll do better! I will! If you're with me. Stay with me…please. I need you to live! Live for me."_

"I want to…I wish I could stay with you, Dawnie."

"_You're alive, and you're home. You're home."_

"I don't have a home. Not anymore."

Buffy opened her eyes, a few tears escaping down her cheeks. She looked down into the dark valley from her position high on the bluff. For the second time since her resurrection, she considered jumping to her death, but she knew now that death would not stop for her again.

There was no way around it. Buffy had abandoned the one person who needed her above everyone and everything. That night in the graveyard, Buffy had seen what the Grey Lady offered: something akin to the peace that had been stolen from her. It was a haven not a heaven, but it would be away 

from the violence and the searing brightness of the world. Seeing this chance, Buffy had grabbed at it without a thought, and the guilt she felt for that was like a knife in her heart.

_How can I live with that guilt and that pain?_ she asked herself. _And what choice do I have? _The strength of mind to step off the edgeeluded her. It was not like the night when the walls of the dimensions began to break down. It was like…Buffy closed her eyes, and suddenly another echo from her past assailed her. This memory was not so long ago, but it felt like another lifetime.

It was nearly sunrise, and she and Angel were standing on the bluff over the town of Sunnydale. Tormented by his past deeds and his mysterious return from hell, Angel was convinced he should let himself burn. Buffy's pleas for him to get inside were to no avail. Angel wanted her too badly to stay away from her, and would risk his soul to be with her. He was dangerous, he said, and he couldn't see the good he could do with the gift of his return. He asked her to let him be strong and end his existence for the good of everyone.

"_Strong is fighting! It's hard, and it's painful, and it's every day. It's what we have to do. And we can do it together. But if you're too much of a coward for that, then burn. If I can't convince you that you belong in this world, then I don't know what can."_

How could she have forgotten what she told him? It was so much easier to give advice than to follow it. How little she knew that long ago morning, what suffering she had yet to endure. Angel suffered, and he worked and lived on. Why couldn't she do the same, even when the pain was unbearable? Surely she could find some comfort in this world.

Buffy's heart ached as she thought of Legolas. He was her comfort. She had seen his face in the sunrise the Grey Lady had shown her, of that she was certain. He had been there for her every step, through every nightmare, and every tantrum she had thrown. A seedling of something dangerous began to take root in her heart as she looked back at their growing friendship since the day they'd met. Dangerous because she had come to care for him very much, and he was becoming too important to her. This was a complication she did not need at this point. It was hopeless anyway, Buffy thought. She had done nothing but take from him since day one, and tonight she had done terrible damage.

Buffy stifled a sob in her throat and covered her eyes with her hand. The tears would not be suppressed, however, and her body began to convulse with her silent weeping. This was just too much. She felt like a horrible person, and her life was in ruins. Buffy looked up through the onslaught of tears clouding her vision and stared wildly at the ground below the cliff where she stood. She just needed to take a few more steps. A few small movements, a little push, and she'd be free-falling through the night air. No more tears, no more worries, just a few painful bounces against the rocks on the way down, and her existence would be scattered among the fragments she left behind on the terrain. Brains, blood and body too broken and far from each other to repair.

Buffy slid her foot forward an inch. She took a deep shaky breath; her eyes fixed straight ahead and took another step. "Come on, Buffy, you can do this," she told herself as she trembled all over. 

Panic rose in her throat, and she felt as if she were frozen stiff at the joints, moving herself by pure will alone, fighting her natural will to survive, so she could finally die. She tried to move her feet again, but she was caught too firmly between opposing needs. She was trapped, and she let out a groan of frustration and agony.

"I can't fight this!" Buffy cried hoarsely. She sobbed again and shut her eyes.

Somewhere, deep inside Buffy's heart, something stirred. It wasn't a memory, it wasn't even a voice she could really hear. It was just suddenly there, filling her up, and bearing her away from the edge. Grasping onto it, Buffy listened, wanting to hear what it was telling her. It was just a whisper of a dream, and it took her mother's voice and form.

_Buffy, _it said. _Listen to me. I believe in you. You're a survivor._ Her mother's voice grew stronger and more resolute. _You can do this, Buffy, fight it. __You're too good to give in. You can beat this thing. Be strong, baby, okay? _

"Mom?" Buffy whispered, reaching out with her hands, her eyes still closed. "Mommy?"

_I know you're afraid. I know the world feels like a hard place sometimes, but you've got people who love you. I have all the faith in the world in you. _

Buffy could see her mother's brown eyes staring intently into her own. Her mother had always been so strong. She reached for her, and she swore she felt a warm hand grasp hers. She held on for dear life, afraid to open her eyes and make this phantom vanish. "Mommy help me, I'm scared. I'm so lost."

A familiar scent surrounded her, and she was an infant cuddled safely against her mother's breast, comforted by the steady beat of her heart.

_I'll always be with you. You've got a world of strength in your heart. I know you do, you just have to find it again. _

"Oh, Mom," Buffy sighed, feeling warmer and lighter.

_Believe in yourself._

The voice faded with this last entreaty, although it did not fade into nothingness. It lived on, inside of Buffy's heart, the steady beat of which mirrored the comforting beat of her mother's heart. The essence of her mother's love was filling her to the brim. It flowed and ebbed, ceaseless and never ending. It was pure love.

Buffy slowly opened her eyes, surprised to see the sky painted with the oranges and pinks of sunrise. She stood, watching the horizon, basking in the knowledge that she was loved, and the darkness receded from her mind.

"Strong is fighting," she muttered to herself.

Buffy sat in the soft grass, trailing her palm over the tickling blades. She smelled the morning air and 

listened to the trees rustling in the slight wind. She sat for a long time, not doing or thinking much of anything, but simply sat and existed. And for once, existing didn't hurt so damn much.

Hours passed as she sat and watched the day. Gradually, her body made its needs known to her, and she stood. It was time to live on, and it was definitely time to eat. And pee. She turned, not knowing exactly where she was going, but she moved with the assurance of one who was not lost, but one who wanted to be found.

She was not tired, as she would have expected to be after such a tumultuous night. She was simply calm, almost tranquil, although that was not quite the right word. Strength of will and body kept her moving. She walked with purpose but did not smile. There was still trouble in her soul, but peacefulness had settled around it, standing guard.

She was not so caught up in her newly found calm that she did not hear the movement somewhere to the left of her location, and Buffy stopped and stood alert. She felt no fear, but just watched, hearing the crunch of heavy footsteps. The curtain of young trees quivered as two stubby hands parted them, and Gimli the Dwarf stepped through and stopped at the sight of Buffy.

"Hi," said Buffy.

The Dwarf raised a brow in exasperation and relief. For a moment, he looked as though he were ready to strangle her, but then his demeanor softened, and Buffy stepped back for fear he would hug her to death.

"Looking for me?" she queried, teasing him halfheartedly.

Gimli sighed and shook his head. "Only all through the blasted night, Slayer."

"How embarrassing," Buffy said with a wince.

Gimli almost smiled, but instead, gestured for her to follow him. "The day wanes, Slayer."

They walked in silence through the dense forest, gently pushing the foliage out of their way. Buffy got a little ahead of Gimli, forgetting that she didn't know where the others had set up camp. She stopped and waited for Gimli to catch up as he muttered "Not so fast, not so fast." She let him lead and trailed close behind him.

Questions leapt to her tongue, and her heartbeat quickened as she tried to give them voice. She didn't know if Gimli knew what had passed between her and Legolas, and if he did, she figured she was going to be in the doghouse for a while. Finally, after several false starts, Buffy summoned up the courage, but kept her eyes on the ground.

"How's Legolas?" _There, that's nice and casual. _

Gimli glanced back at her briefly, his face revealing nothing. "He's all right. Just worn out and in need of sleep."

Buffy looked up in surprise. "I thought Elves didn't need sleep."

"Aye, they do. Not often, but this particular Elf is rather ill, I must say. Let the poor lad rest."

A stab of guilt hit her, and she wasn't sure if she imagined an accusing and protective tone in the Dwarf's voice. She replied defensively, "You always call him that, as if he's younger than you. Like he's your little brother you need to protect or something."

"And of course, he is not, I know. He has been alive for much longer than I could bear to think about. But in many ways…he's still very young," Gimli thought for a moment, then added, "and innocent."

With a pang, Buffy was reminded of just how innocent Legolas was. _God, _she thought ruefully. _I practically tore his clothes off. And I'm pretty sure my tongue was halfway down his throat._ She shook herself, not wanting any more guilt pressing down on her at the moment.

"He was the merriest of the Fellowship. No matter our hardships and strife, no matter how battle-hardened he became in the thick of the fight, he was always light-hearted, helping to keep our spirits up."

"Is that just the way Elves are?"

"I suppose. But he has not seen as much as others older and more well-traveled than he."

"Well, he went through that whole war, didn't he? He grew up fighting off giant spiders, right?"

"Aye, but he hadn't traveled outside of his home at all before he came to Rivendell, except to come to Erebor for the Battle of Five Armies. But that was not so far as the places he's been to now. Yes, he was a very cheerful fellow."

Buffy stopped walking. "Was."

"Eh?" Gimli stopped and turned to look at her.

"You said 'was'. You mean until he met me, Buffy the Gloomy Elf Maker." When Gimli didn't respond, she continued. "You've said it before. He's changed since I came along."

Gimli was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, he sounded very tired. "Aye. He has changed."

Buffy pursed her lips and blinked rapidly, trying to stave off the tears. She was surprised she had a fresh supply of them, considering all she'd put her tear ducts through in recent times. She just felt like a tornado, wreaking havoc in the near-perfect life of this Elf, and she hoped that by the time she returned home, she'd be able to put things right. _But,_ she thought, _I'm the Queen of Avoid the Personal Conflict Land._ Gimli's voice punctured through her silent musings.

"You're a lot of trouble, lass."

Buffy's heart sank a little.

"Aye. A lot of trouble, but well worth it."

* * *

Elladan watched this girl called the Slayer as she unsuccessfully tried to find her rest. By all rights, she should be exhausted enough to sleep for three days, yet she paced, sat, and then paced again, occasionally gazing at Legolas, who was sleeping on his bedroll.

Eru only knew how much Miruvor she'd had to drink. When told of the restorative properties of the cordial, Buffy had downed several gulps from his flask before Elladan had been able to wrest it from her grasp. She had requested that everyone leave her alone, and everyone had gladly complied. After the way Legolas looked when he returned from being alone with her, neither Elladan nor his brother wanted to chance being near the girl.

And yet, he thought compassionately, he could see how sad she was. Her melancholy enveloped her like a dark cloak, and he perhaps understood that given her circumstances, he would be much the same. Gimli had mentioned a few days before that the girl's mother had died, and her father had left a few years ago, leaving her to care for a younger sister. Elladan knew well the pain of losing loved ones.

Moreover, this strange young woman was very important. She possessed amazing power, but what made her especially interesting was the fact that she had somehow garnered the sponsorship of one of the most powerful of the Ainur: Nienna.

He glanced over at the sleeping form of Legolas. It was obvious to Elladan that he was in love with her. Even if he had not overheard the prince's whispered endearments and professions of love to the girl when she seemed to be dying, he would have known this. The way he had given over a part of himself to her spoke of a deep devotion. No Elf could give of himself so much without sincere attachment. Elladan only wondered when it was that Thranduílion realized what his feelings were, and if he would ever tell her of them.

It was none of his concern, he supposed, as he stirred the campfire. What could he say about it in any case? He would keep his own counsel and leave the girl be. Despite his resolution, however, his eyes were drawn to her as she continued to pace around the campsite. She seemed so adrift, so in need of an anchor. He could not really help her, he thought, and yet he was compelled to draw her out. There was something about her that bespoke of great loss and depth of spirit.

Elladan stood, a sudden idea giving him the impetus to approach her despite her isolationist edict. He drew his sword and called to her. She looked over, surprised, and eyed him suspiciously when she saw his weapon glinting in the firelight. Buffy walked toward him, slowly, warily, but did not speak until she reached him.

"Not really in the mood for a sparring session. Besides, didn't we decide to call it a draw, Tweedle-

dee?"

Elladan did not bother to disguise his annoyance with both the nickname and the fact that she had confused him with his twin. "I am Tweedle-dum, madam, if you will remember, and I have yet to test my skill against yours," he replied with a sardonic lift of one of his eyebrows. "But I would prefer it if you would address me by the name I was given by my parents, Elladan, or 'Elf-man' as that is its meaning."

His last statement seemed to give Buffy some secret delight, which was refreshing, but this pleasantness was short-lived when the next thing that came out of her mouth was "Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na, ELF MAN!" The ridiculous snippet of song gave her a moment's laughter, until she saw he was not entertained.

She cleared her throat, and gave him an apologetic glance. "Sorry. I think I was just channeling my friend Xander for a second."

Elladan's expression did not change, and he waited for her to explain further, although he was not sure he wanted to know what she was talking about. He watched her flounder for a moment, secretly charmed by her uneasiness.

"Okay, Buffy's moment of insanity is over, we can relax now," she said in an attempt to reassure him there would be no further antics.

"Thank the stars," Elladan said with a roll of his eyes.

Buffy frowned at that, but did not rise to the bait. "So, why the 'man' in your name? I mean, you're a guy and you're an Elf, so isn't that just stating the obvious?"

"I am descended from both races, Elves and Men on both sides of my family. Therefore, some consider me to be Half-Elven, or _Peredhril_." Understanding dawned on Buffy's features, and he continued. "Although saying I am half is somewhat misleading."

"So what's Tweedle-dee's, I mean, your brother's name mean?"

Elladan eyed her in amusement. "Do you even remember what his name is, Buffy?"

Buffy glared at him reprovingly. "Yes, I do. It's El…roy. Ron." Elladan smirked as he watched her confidence dwindle to absolute abashment. Frantically, she prattled off several names under her breath. "El Niño, El Rey, El Conquistador…argh, Rumplestiltskin!" She threw her hands in the air in defeat. "I give up! You got me, I- "

Elladan chuckled loudly, ceasing her amusing tirade. "Elro_hir_. Elf-Knight. My father, who you are going to meet very soon, is Elrond, son of Eärendil. You would do well to remember his name, if you please."

"I'll try," Buffy said, looking somewhat abashed. "Maybe if you tell me its meaning, I'll remember it 

better. I have a thing about strange names."

Elladan bit back a sharp retort about the names of his family being strange as opposed to her very odd name, since he supposed that coming from a different world altogether, the names of the people she met here would probably seem very strange to her.

"His name was given to him many years after his and his twin brother's birth. Their mother, Elwing was forced to flee, and they were abducted. Their captors took pity on them and left them by a waterfall. My father was later found in a cave and was given the name Elrond meaning 'Elf of the Cave' or 'Star-dome'. My uncle was found near the water, and was given the name Elros, meaning 'Elf of the Spray' or 'Star-foam'".

"Now you're just trying to confuse me. All those 'Ells'. Next you'll be telling me L. Ron Hubbard was your grandfather, and that would just be way too creepy."

Elladan stared at her for a moment. "You baffle me," he said finally.

"Same here, Elf Man," Buffy retorted with a friendly smirk.

Buffy glanced down at the sword Elladan still held, and then broke the awkward silence. "So what was with the sword and the summons?"

"Ah," he replied, glad get back to his original intentions. "Yes, come and sit by the fire with me."

"Are we going to toast marshmallows and tell ghost stories?"

"Stories, perhaps, but not about ghosts," Elladan replied, ignoring her sarcasm. They sat on the ground close to the campfire. The Elf held up his sword, the flat engraved side turned so Buffy could see it.

"In memory of my mother's torment, I slay thee."

"Hmm?"

"You wanted to know what the inscription read. I feel like telling you. 'In memory of my mother's torment, I slay thee.'"

Buffy's eyes widened in compassionate curiosity. "What happened to your mother? Is she dead?"

"She lives still," he told her reassuringly. "But not here. After what occurred, she could no longer bear to dwell in Middle Earth. It held no happiness for her anymore. And who could blame her?" Buffy looked at him expectedly, so he continued.

"Her name is Celebrían. It means 'silver queen'. Her hair was like a ribbon of silver all down her back," he sighed. "She was riding east to visit her parents in Lothlórien. Every precaution was taken. She rode with some of the finest warriors Imladris had to provide. Even so, my father was reluctant to let her make the trip, for it would be perilous. My mother, though, longed to see her mother and 

walk amongst the mellyrn again."

"Mel-what?" Buffy interrupted.

"Mellyrn. The great trees of Lothlórien, the golden valley," Elladan explained patiently. "It is a wondrous place, you know. The trees reach great heights, and the Elves build their homes upon the trunks. Their bark is silver and smooth, and their leaves turn from pale green to gold in autumn. In spring they bear golden blossoms in clusters, and when the flowers open and the leaves fall, the wood is carpeted and roofed with gold."

Here, Elladan paused, watching Buffy as she took in his description of his grandmother's home. "Sounds pretty," she said softly.

"To get to Lothlórien from Imladris is a dangerous trip, to be sure," the Elf continued. "They had to travel through the Redhorn Pass below the mighty Caradhras, which you see rising behind you."

Buffy jumped and turned abruptly, seemingly expecting to see some great monster behind her. When she looked back at him with a disgruntled frown, Elladan laughed softly, but not mockingly.

"The mountain, dear Buffy, the mountain," he said, gesturing to the mass of land with snow-topped peaks. He held back further laughter as she tried not to look sheepish, and continued his story when she cleared her throat.

Elladan turned serious again as he recounted this part of his mother's suffering. "The Redhorn Pass is a treacherous route, but it is the fastest way to travel between the two realms. The main reason for its bad reputation is the orcs that dwell in the mountains, as you yourself have seen." He gave her a cautious look, but she did not flinch at the reminder of her recent brush with death at the hands of those terrible creatures. This Slayer was made of stern stuff indeed, he thought.

"As they camped down for the night, my mother's traveling party was set upon by orcs. They killed all of her guard and abducted my mother." Elladan's expression hardened, and his eyes burned. "My brother and I were riding but a day behind her. We came upon their camp after the raid, and our hearts trembled in agony and fear. Fortunately, we were able to track the orcs to their den, and our mother was there, alive, but…"

Elladan swallowed the tears that threatened to fall whenever he recalled the sight of his beloved mother's body, stripped and covered in bruises and cuts from the torture they had inflicted upon her. He clenched his fists, trying to contain the rage that still rose in his throat after all these years.

"What did they do to her?" Buffy prompted gently and somewhat fearfully.

Elladan shook his head. "I do not know exactly what kind of torment they wreaked upon her, but it was plain to see…" He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. "We slaughtered them all. Without mercy, without thought. I felt as if I… as if some demon had taken hold. Only my mother's cries of distress called me back to myself."

Buffy reached out, hesitantly at first, but then she laid her hand firmly upon Elladan's arm. He took a little comfort from her effort to soothe him, and covered her hand with his own before continuing. "We took her home to our father, who already had some sense that something was terribly wrong. He is a great healer, and he put everything he had into curing her wounds. One of the orcs had used a poisoned blade. The poison made it very difficult for her to heal. Eventually, he was successful in bringing her back to physical health."

Buffy's eyes filled with understanding and compassion. She tightened her hold on his arm. "She just wasn't the same, was she?"

Elladan shook his head silently, his eyes cast down. "As I said, she could no longer bear to live in Middle Earth. Nothing held any joy for her any longer. Not even…" Here he cursed as his voice broke. He composed himself once again. "She sailed West to Valinor. It was a heartbreaking decision, but what could she or any of us do? She could live there and find joy again. Her pain and grief would be but a dim memory there."

"You must miss her very much," Buffy whispered.

"My father, especially," Elladan agreed. "But he will sail West soon, and they will be reunited. My brother and I vowed to put off our choice until we rid Middle Earth of the foul scourge. Hence the inscription on my sword."

"Your choice?" Buffy let her hand slip from Elladan's arm, and he sat back.

"We may choose to become mortal and remain here to live out our lives until we decide to die, or we may count ourselves among the Elves and sail West to dwell there…well who knows how long?"

Buffy's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Elves can choose not to be Elves?"

Elladan realized he should have been more specific in his words, and prayed he had not given the girl false hope. He knew this girl felt something for the Prince of Mirkwood, though he did not know if she realized it yet. "This boon was granted only to members of my family, who descend from both Elves and Men. My ancestors performed a great service to the Valar, and they bestowed this choice upon them, which has passed down to us."

"So you'll all be together again someday, right?"

"Not all of us. My sister Arwen, has chosen to be counted among Men. She has married the new King of Gondor, our foster brother. They loved each other as soon as they met, and we were devastated to learn of it, but her heart would not be turned. He will live a long life, and when he is ready, he will choose the day of his death. My sister will not survive him for much longer after that."

"And you'll really never see her again if you go…to that place?" Buffy asked with a trace of fear and longing in her voice.

Elladan studied her for a moment, and then answered. "I know not where the souls of Men dwell 

after death, but it is not among the Elves. We will not see her again."

"I feel really bad for you. And your dad, too. That must have been so hard to let her go like that."

Elladan looked up at the sky, searching for the star that was his grandfather, Eärendil, sailing his ship with the Silmaril upon his brow. "Ah, Buffy. My father has known so much sorrow during his long life. He was separated from his parents at a very young age. He saw his mentor, Gil-Galad, the last high-king of the Elves struck down by the Dark Lord Sauron. And his twin brother, Elros chose to be counted among Men. He lived a good long while, mind you. About six hundred years, or so. But they will not be reunited." He looked back down at Buffy, whose eyes were looking a little watery. "It is a singular thing, to be a twin. Being parted from each other is very painful, and my father lives with that every day. He has lost much. But still, he is the best of fathers. Kind, understanding. Although he can roar like a Mumakíl if he discovers you in any sort of mischief," Elladan said with a twinkle in his eye.

Buffy laughed a little bit, and then yawned. "Sorry," she said abashedly. "Thanks for telling me about your family. It's helped me quit focusing so much on…well, myself. I do that a lot." She shrugged tiredly.

Elladan stood, noting the late hour. "Get your rest, Buffy. We will arrive in Imladris very soon. Then you may meet my esteemed father, and I will be interested to hear your full story."

Buffy gave him a dubious look, which made him smile, and she made her way back to her bedding to go to sleep.

Elladan continued to watch Eärendil in awed silence. He sensed his brother approaching, no doubt to be relieved of his night watch duty.

"Why did you tell her of _Naneth_?" Elrohir inquired softly.

His twin shrugged, still looking to the sky. "I don't know," he said.

Translations:

MiruvorThe reviving cordial of the Elves, a liquor with the power to grant renewed vigor and strength.

_Naneth_ Mother


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

The four travelers trudged wearily up the hill as it began to rain for the fifth time that day. Soaked to the skin, as well as tired, cold and irritable they stopped to take cover under a copse of trees to wait it out. It was impossible to see much less walk when the rain fell in such a pelting, heavy fashion.

The path was too narrow for any method of transport other than walking, so they had left their customary means of conveyance safely in the nearby town. Carrying their belongings on their backs was not ideal, especially since they did not know whether they would find lodging in the house they were traveling to, but it was necessary. Should the master of the house prove unfriendly, they would have to take everything back into town, but that would only mean one extra trip as opposed to two if they were asked to stay and had not brought their things.

The house lay just in sight. It sat on a high, grassy hill overlooking a small stretch of sand and ocean. A dense forest lay a few feet behind it. The house was small, and was painted white with a black roof. An octagonal tower stood on the North side of the building. It once gave light to sailors making their way through perilous waters, but due to changes in the trade routes was needed no longer. The keeper's quarters were left intact, however, and it was there that the travelers hoped to end their journey for the day. They had just spotted the top of the tower when the rain halted their progress.

Luckily they had prepared for the rain, knowing that the region was famous for its inclement weather this time of year. They huddled together for warmth, donning their outerwear and sipping at the hot beverages they had purchased at a local shop. One of the travelers scraped his muddy boots on the trunk of a tree and peered at the sky contemptuously.

"Stupid Pacific Northwest," Xander growled finishing off his triple latte with an exaggerated swig.

"Yeah, the weather's not the best, but let us all give thanks to Seattle for Starbucks," Lorne raised his cardboard coffee cup in a salute before taking a sip.

"Amen," Willow chimed in, while pulling back the sleeve of her rain poncho to check her watch. "Do you think he's gonna be home, Lorne?"

"He'd better be," said Xander darkly. "If not, we're going to have to bust down his door, 'cause I'm not spending any more time out here than I have to."

"Certainly, Xander, let us endear ourselves to this man and inspire him to help us by breaking into his home." Giles removed his glasses for what felt like the thousandth time that day, and cleared away the condensation with his handkerchief.

"All's I'm sayin' is, it took us a month and a half of research to find this guy, and it better be worth it."

"Hey, I did most of the research, thank you very much," said Lorne indignantly. "Doran left L.A. not too long after I met him, and I had to call up everybody from there to Timbuktu that had any kind of info on him. Do you know what my phone bill looks like?"

"Did you really call Timbuktu? 'Cause I've always wanted to know where the hell that is."

Lorne ignored Xander's interruption. "You know, it's not like this guy has a Yahoo account. It would have been a heck of a lot easier if we could have done the location spell first."

"Sorry," Willow said with a somewhat fractious glance at Giles. "We needed a more specific region before we could pinpoint an exact location."

Lorne turned to Willow perplexedly. "I thought you were the one with all the souped up power. The 'Greased Lightening' of the Wicca world. I mean you did raise the dead and all, you couldn't find one measly Elf?"

Willow shifted uncomfortably, as did Giles and Xander at the mention of Buffy's resurrection. "I _could_ have," she explained in a petulant voice. "I'm just not allowed-"

"Willow is taking a sabbatical from magic at the moment," Giles said abruptly.

"_Forced_ sabbatical," Willow muttered under her breath.

Lorne, unwilling to get embroiled in what was clearly a long-standing conflict, put up his hands in surrender. "I'm not going fishing, so I don't need to open that can of worms. Red's been benched, and the relief pitcher got sent in, I get it."

"Tara did need specifications, since her power isn't as strong, but she's very proficient," Giles explained.

"Well, it's a good thing I found a blurb about him on the internet, or else we'd be up shit creek," Lorne sighed, taking another sip of his drink. He had followed an obscure lead on the Elf. A critic's review of a club act featuring a singer with long, dark hair and an ethereal voice popped up on his Google search, and had paid off.

"He was up in Big Sur?" Giles inquired.

"Yep," Lorne nodded. "Singing his sad songs for all the tourists. But I guess he doesn't much care for crowds, because the manager at the club said he packed up and left for this place after only a couple of shows."

"What took so long once you knew which way he'd gone?" Xander grumbled. "We'd like to get our friend back sometime before the next apocalypse, you know."

"Xander!" Giles whispered, astonished at the boy's rudeness.

"Hey, I run a business, buddy! I just rebuilt, and have a manager who's pretty wet behind the ears. Do you think I'm just going to leave my club lickety-split and let it fall to pieces again?" Lorne huffed, rounding on Xander. "I had to train him up good before I was sure he could handle it. Plus, I had to put my patrons on notice that I wasn't going to be around to do readings for a bit. I got swamped with last minute requests."

"Hey," Willow jumped in, trying to make peace. "Not a problem, okay? Xander, back off. We're all doing the best we can." She coughed. "When we're allowed to."

"You know, I'm doing you a favor, and it would be nice to not be attacked every five minutes," said Lorne, rubbing the swollen lump on his forehead. "Especially considering the blow to the head that I took when I showed up on your doorstep."

Xander threw up his hands in exasperation. "I said was sorry! We didn't know who you were! No one told us you were coming, much less gave us a description."

Somehow the lines of communication between Angel's team and the Sunnydale gang had broken down, and no warning of Lorne's impending arrival was received. They had only known that someone named Lorne would be coming to Sunnydale whenever he had some news. It seemed likely that Cordelia, who was supposed to make the call the day of his arrival, was incapacitated yet again by one of her skull-crushing visions, and had understandably forgotten.

"How many evil beings actually ring the doorbell before they try to kill you?"

"You'd be surprised," replied Giles dryly.

"Would it have helped if I'd said 'trick or treat'?"

"Probably not."

"Look," Willow interceded before things got nasty all around. "Look, we're all a bit cranky, what with the traveling, and the rain, and the head wounds, but I think we need to put all that aside and focus on the important stuff. Buffy's somewhere she shouldn't be and we need to bring her home." She eyed them all sternly, and then smiled hopefully. "We can all be friends, right?"

"I know you need to get your friend back," said Lorne. "I've been through this before, you know, so I feel your pain." He rubbed the lump on his head again, and muttered "If only you could feel mine."

"Again, sorry for the head bashing," Xander admitted softly. "I'll 'mea culpa' all you want, if we can just get Buffy back."

"Well, I don't think you did any lasting damage," Lorne assured him. "Aside from the Lorne Greene jokes."

Xander grinned sheepishly. "Aw c'mon. I couldn't resist. I mean, I know I'm probably the bazillionth person to make that reference-"

"No, no," Lorne smiled patronizingly. "You're the very first."

Xander laughed. "Really? Naw, you're just saying that to butter me up."

"For what? It's not like I'm a one-eyed, one-horned, flying purple people eater."

Willow, wanting to get into the spirit of this new camaraderie piped up. "Nope, just a red-eyed, two-horned, singing, emerald people reader!" she said with a huge grin.

All three men turned to stare at Willow in pitying silence. "You've been dying to say that for a while, now, haven't you? Really, sweetie, that was worse than Xander's Bonanza crack," Lorne told her with a condescending pat on the shoulder. "Do you really think I'm more emerald than olive, though?" He asked thoughtfully.

Before Willow could reply, however, Giles insisted that they get moving. "The rain's starting to ease up," he said, starting to walk back toward the path, not waiting for the others. "Come along," he called back over his shoulder. "We can't stand here gabbing all day, can we?"

Willow, Xander and Lorne began to follow, and soon they were at the door to the Kestrel Bay Lighthouse. Everyone stood uncertainly for a moment, until Lorne figured he ought to do the honors and knocked loudly three times.

Xander shifted nervously where he stood and whispered to Willow: "What are we going to say to him? 'Help us Mr. Doran, you're our only hope?'"

"If you must."

Everyone jumped out of their skins, and turned around to see who had spoken so unexpectedly, when moments ago, no one had been there. Giles, Xander and Willow gaped in amazement at the tall being that stood before them. He was dressed very casually in a light-colored button-down shirt and tan slacks, but his bearing was regal and commanded immediate deference.

His long, dark hair was gathered in a ponytail, hiding his ears. His silver eyes regarded them curiously as they scanned the faces before him, showing surprise and delight when they located the green demon.

"Lorne," the Elf stepped forward, greeting his old friend with a warm handshake.

"Doran, my man! How's life in exile?" Lorne responded, and the two proceeded to exchange pleasantries.

Willow thought as she watched the two friends become reacquainted, she really ought to learn more about auras from Tara. The person in front of her seemed almost radiant, and she desperately wanted to know what that was all about. Even though he could have passed for a human (just a really, really romance novel cover pretty one) she did not have to see his pointed ears to know that he was something much more. She wondered how he had lived among humans for so long, without anyone suspecting what he really was. Suddenly, he turned to look at her, and before his eyes locked with hers, Willow abruptly turned away, pretending to scrape mud off of her shoe. Her heart pounded, and she couldn't think why she had just done that.

"Sorry to pop in on you like this, but these folks are in a bit of a quandary, and you seem to be their Obi-Wan." Lorne explained to their potential host. "Mind if they come in and tell you their tale? Possibly by a very warm, crackling fire while we clutch hot beverages?"

* * *

Doran Teague, the Elf formerly known as Maglor, High Prince of the Noldor, gazed shrewdly upon the visitors gathered in his small living room. They, in turn, were studying the many artifacts decorating it. Some were of this world, and some were not. Some were his own creations, such as the drawings of his family and the maps that hung on the walls.

Doran had gathered many items over the several millennia since he had arrived in this realm. He had not brought much with him. Anything that represented Arda was made or drawn or written by his own hand. The few things he had been able to bring were very old and stored away safely, except for his jeweled harp from Aman, which hung proudly on the wall.

Lorne, he could see out of the corner of his eye, was reverently examining the musical instruments displayed on one side of the room. He reached out one green, slender hand to lightly pluck at the strings of the lute, and gaze admiringly at the harp with its seven jewels.

Music was his calming device, whenever the regrets of the past threatened to overwhelm him. He had learned to play many instruments, and had acquired a lute, a sitar, a cello, and a guitar over the years as music evolved. In another corner stood a 1932 E.H. Scott radio set in a Lido cabinet. The young man who had introduced himself as Xander was lifting the lid of the cabinet to examine the twelve chrome chassis.

"It's quite old, but it still works," Doran told him, causing the boy to drop the lid down with a startling bang.

"Or it did until just now," Xander stated uneasily.

The older man named Rupert Giles turned from the framed linen canvas he had been studying with keen interest and scowled at his young companion. "Do be careful," he hissed, and then sent an apologetic and cautious glance toward Doran before turning back to the embroidered script. Doran could see that the man was irresistibly drawn to it, and it was no surprise to him.

"Fascinating script," Mr. Giles muttered. "One wonders-"

"It is called Tengwar," Doran supplied the answer before the question could be asked. "The language is Sindarin. My father, Fëanor developed the written language during the First Age. He was an Elf of many accomplishments."

"I see," Mr. Giles replied, looking astonished and more than a little impressed.

He placed the tea tray he carried onto a table, and went to stoke the fire. Above the mantle was a large framed portrait of an Elf holding aloft a light-filled jewel. The Elf's hair was as black as Doran's own, and his eyes were piercing silver. Doran had labored to portray his father's fiery essence, surrounding his likeness with a red glow. It seemed to pulse in the dim light of the room, threatening to consume the painted figure from the inside out. The young woman named Willow stood before it, completely entranced.

"Pardon me," he murmured to her, and she looked up, very startled, her eyes wide. In the split second before she looked away, Doran saw her eyes change from emerald green to black. Momentarily chilled, he shook himself and turned his back to her in order to tend to the fire. He stared into the flames, and then chanced a glance over his shoulder to watch the young woman, who was now sitting on the sofa, her eyes on nothing.

Doran turned back to his task, using the poker to move the logs being consumed by fire. Finished, he stood and looked up at his father's portrait, and then back at the girl. Her hair was red like that of his older brother Maedhros, but there was something more than that. He had glimpsed something in that instant when he stared into the black pools of her eyes. She was dangerous. Her spirit, a spirit of fire was what he had seen.

Disturbed, Doran finished stoking the fire, and stood, turning to face his guests. He gestured to the tea tray on the table. "Please, friends, help yourselves. Forgive me; I am not accustomed to company."

Giles smiled reassuringly at Doran. "Please, no forgiveness is necessary. We have come to you unannounced, so it is we who should beg your forgiveness." The Watcher bent to the task of pouring out tea and distributing lumps of sugar and dollops of cream.

"Thanks. How very English of you," quipped Lorne as he accepted his cup.

"Just be sure to raise your pinky or you'll offend his delicate sensibilities," Xander rejoined with a smirk, which he quelled after a look from Giles.

Willow had refused the offer of tea, and still sat on the couch, subdued and staring at Fëanor's portrait once again.

Doran looked at her and back at the painting, and then back at the group, whose curious stares followed Willow's eyes to the portrait. He felt a slight chill run down his spine, and a sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. He addressed them suddenly, and they all jumped a little at the sound of his voice breaking their reverie.

"My father, Fëanor, holding aloft one of his greatest creations," he explained.

"What is it; that jewel?" Willow asked softly, still transfixed while the others turned their attention to the Elf.

"One of the three Silmarils, but I doubt you came all the way here to gaze at my artwork. Will you not tell me why you came?"

Xander, Giles and Willow all looked at each other and seemed to come to a conclusion as to who would speak for them. Giles put down his teacup and stood, taking off his spectacles and cleaning them with a handkerchief. _A much practiced move,_ Doran thought.

"I understand that you are not native to this world, this dimension?" Giles inquired softly and somewhat awkwardly.

Doran nodded, feeling suddenly wary and wondering not for the first time what these people could possibly want from him. He folded his arms, and stood up straighter; bracing himself for whatever would come next.

"That is true," he replied, his grey eyes darting over to Lorne and then back to Giles. "I came to the shores of what is now England a great many years ago; too many years to name."

Giles looked up from his spectacles in surprise, and cleared his throat nervously. "Yes, well. You came from a place called Arda, did you not?"

Doran's heart began to pound. He took a deep breath and let it out. "That is one name for it."

"How did you get here?" This question came from Willow who was regarding him closely, almost desperately.

"I will hear your reason for asking first before I answer that question, if you please." Everyone went silent, the visitors looking to each other to determine what to say next. The old Willard Lighthouse clock on the mantel ticked away the seconds underneath its glass dome. At last, Giles stepped forward, clearing his throat once again and returning his spectacles to the bridge of his nose.

"Well, you see, the reason we came is, and I don't blame you if you have trouble believing it…er, how shall I put this?" He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and sighed. "We have lost someone very dear to us." He paused as if waiting for some conciliatory remark, and hearing none, went on. "She disappeared, went missing about two months ago, and we think…" Here, the bespectacled man paused awkwardly. "It's important that you understand exactly who this girl is. Not only is she extremely dear to us all-"

"Except for me, I never met her," Lorne interjected glibly.

"Not only is she extremelydear to her friends," Giles began again in irritation, "she has a singular significance in this world." He looked Doran straight in the eye without blinking. "Have you ever heard of a Vampire Slayer?"

Doran, who was still waiting to hear their reasons for seeking him, was set back on his heels for a moment. "I have heard of such a person, but I don't know very much about the subject." He sighed. "I have yet to see what this woman has to do with me, however."

"She has disappeared, seemingly into thin air," Giles told him, his voice taking on a desperate urgency. "All our efforts, magical and otherwise to locate her failed until some associates of ours obtained an object called the Axis of Pythia." He paused, looking to Doran for any sign of recognition. Seeing none, he explained. "It is a mystical device that has the ability to locate souls across dimensions. Based on what was seen within the Axis, and what Lorne told us of you and your homeland, we believe she has somehow been transported to your home dimension. Arda."

Immediately after he spoke these last words, Giles drew back suddenly, as did all the others in the room. Doran had not moved or visibly reacted, but something about him changed so sharply, that they could not help but sense that every muscle in the Elf's body was tensed. His eyes, which had until now exhibited a slightly bewildered curiosity were eerily still and fiercely focused on Giles.

The former librarian knew that if it were possible, he would be pinned up against the wall by that gaze. Willow felt the air in the room crackle, and her magical senses were on high alert, causing the small hairs on her body to stand on end.

Doran's voice was low and barely audible, but every word was crisply enunciated.

"And how do you think this happened?"

No one spoke. No one dared. Doran's eyes moved from person to person with sharp precision, and for some reason settled on Xander. He blanched visibly, and looked to his companions for assistance, and finding none, opened his mouth. Nothing came out but a pathetic little croak. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"Um…whoops, she fell into a portal?" The young man offered lamely. Unfortunately, he continued. "I'm Buffy, I'm doing my nightly patrol, and hey what's that funny looking thing over there? Oh no! I'm being sucked into a vortex, and poof! I'm in another dimension with Elves and Dwarves and stuff." Again, the silence and tension threatened to asphyxiate them all. "I'm doing my best, but I got nothin', guys, help me out here!" Xander flailed his arms in desperation.

Everyone waited for an explosion, but mercifully, none came. The Elf relaxed, and the room seemed to return to normal. "Impossible," Doran replied with a derisive chuckle. "And also ridiculous." He sat down in the arm chair next to the fire, and crossed his legs. "Your friend cannot be in Arda."

"Pardon me, but we have every reason to believe she is," Giles countered. He glanced nervously at the Elf before going to retrieve a leather folder that had been placed on the couch. Doran frowned, wondering why he hadn't noticed it before. The man unzipped the folder and extracted several papers from it. "We have evidence-"

"You have drawn the wrong conclusions from your evidence then," Doran stated emphatically, his grey eyes flashing again. He waved his hand derisively. "So-called 'portals' to Arda do not simply open up at random. Only someone with great power, someone beyond the human world, beyond this universe could have brought her there. Something tremendous would have had to happen to make those beings aware of anyone in this world." He paused for breath, bringing his hand to his chin and looking downward. His expression and his body seemed to crumble a bit as a look of utter dejection filled his eyes. "As it is…they are barely aware of me any longer. I…"

Doran stood abruptly, and turned away from them to stare at the fire. "Lorne, I think you and your friends should leave." His voice was soft, almost pleading. "I am very sorry for the loss of your friend, this Slayer. But you will have to look to someone else for assistance. I beg you to let me be."

"No!"

That cry came from Willow, who had shot right up out of her seat. Doran turned to look at her over his shoulder, the fierceness returning to his gaze once more. Willow, however, was not cowed.

"Something tremendous did happen," she breathed darkly. "Something that disrupted the universe."

"Will, be careful, huh?" Xander reached out a hand as if to subdue her, but she would not be stopped.

"Buffy died. She died saving the world six months ago, when the walls between dimensions began to break down. The portal needed her blood in order to close, and she gave it without any hesitation," Willow's eyes filled at the memory, but she blinked away the tears. Meeting Doran's stare full-on, she continued. "A few months later, we did something." She closed her eyes and opened them again. "I did something. I brought her back. I pulled her body out of the ground and ripped her soul from heaven."

Doran stared at her and turned to face her fully. His heart accelerated, and he could see the fire spirit burning in her eyes as she spoke. He said nothing, but waited for her to explain further.

"I shouldn't have done it. But…but the world needed her. _We_ needed her! She shouldn't have died, it wasn't natural, and-"

"That's enough, Willow," Giles' tone was gentle, but irrefutable. Willow caught her breath, still caught in Doran's gaze, which was inscrutable. After a moment, he broke eye contact with her and looked out the window into the night. Then he turned to Giles.

"What evidence do you have?"

* * *

Doran stared at the drawings in front of him. The pencil sketches of the _gwenyn_ had shaken him to the very core, to say the least. As soon as he lifted the page to the light, he was transported back in time to the day he gazed at two identical faces looking up at him in fear. His heart clenched, and he put the paper away from him, but something kept drawing him back to it.

He didn't know who they were. They could be of no relation whatsoever, but their dark hair and the slant of the light eyes were so familiar. They were fully grown, unlike the two Elflings he had taken into his care, but he could not shake the feeling that if these two were not the very same from all those years ago, then they were close kin.

It took everything within his power not to cast that drawing into the fire and expel the unwanted visitors from his home. However, if he did so, he would be left alone with his previously buried memories laced with pain, and nothing to distract him.

Thinking distraction was an extremely good idea, he put down the drawing of the _gwenyn_ and picked up another page. This one was written in Tengwar, and his mind translated it with ease.

"In memory of my mother's torment, I slay thee," he muttered.

Giles perked up at this statement, hoping for some sort of confirmation that their theory was correct after such a long silence from Doran as he studied their documents. "Apparently it was engraved on one of the Elves' swords."

"I see," said Doran, putting the paper down and picking up another. Looking at the drawing of another Elf but not really seeing it, he reflected on all he had heard in the past half hour. Doran had listened, fascinated, as he heard the story of the Slayer's sacrificial death and subsequent resurrection. Such an act, raising the dead, was abhorrent to him, but he tried to keep his reactions to a minimum.

He observed the tension between the young red-haired girl and the older man. It was clear she had taken this course of action without his approval or knowledge, and although she seemed somewhat regretful, her resentment of Giles' reprimands was abundantly clear.

Xander tried to keep the peace, and for the most part they acquiesced and refrained from an all-out brawl, except for one passionate outburst from the girl, who vehemently defended her decision to interfere with the laws of life and death.

"You weren't there, Giles, remember? We didn't need your permission anymore, you left us in charge of ourselves, and we took action."

"And a fine mess of it you made of it-"

"Mess? Oh yeah, it's a real mess, but you didn't see what happened the night you left. Some vamp had figured out that the Slayer was a robot, and a huge gang of big Bubba biker demons got wind of it. You want to talk about a mess? Well, that was Sunnydale. Looting, killing, setting fires. Theywere 

taking over the town Giles, and who knows what else wouldhave happened after that. Maybe a Hellmouth opening and the world ending?" Willow paused to catch her breath.

Doran remained silent watching this exchange and glanced at Lorne. The demon just looked back at him and shrugged, silently communicating his own ignorance of the situation.

Willow continued, her voice becoming low and intense. "If we hadn't raised her that night, Giles…she was the only thing standing between those demons and total destruction. She was needed." Her eyes pleaded with her mentor for understanding.

Giles, however, did not meet her gaze. He was moved, Doran could tell, but nevertheless told her, "However you feel you can justify it now, it was still the wrong thing to do. And you know it," he stated quietly.

Willow stared at him in disbelief, and Xander went to her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. Doran could sense an emotional gap widening between Willow and Giles, feeling the anguish caused by conflict between people who were once very close.

That silent moment was when Giles handed over the evidence: sketches of what their associates had seen in the Axis, and once he saw the Tengwar engraving, he could no longer deny that their theory was valid. Somehow the Valar had given the Slayer an entrée into Arda.

He solemnly gathered the pages and "You seek to retrieve what is yours, then?" he asked them casually.

"Uh…not exactly," Xander replied, somewhat indignantly. "I mean the retrieval part is accurate, but it's not like she's a stolen bike or anything. Yes, we want our friend back, but more than that, she belongs here."

Doran turned to the young man with an appraising stare. "Does she?" Xander and Willow stared at him open-mouthed, seemingly speechless at his question. He calmly picked up the leather folder from where Giles had left it on the coffee table, and put the pages back. He zipped it up and tossed it back on the table where it landed with a sharp slap that made the two young people jump.

"Well…okay, she belongs in heaven and we took her from it, I _know _that, believe me," Willow said defensively, and took a brave step toward Doran. "But she sure doesn't belong in some other worldly dimension-"

"The beings that granted her access to Arda do not offer such a gift lightly," Doran told her sharply. "The disruption you caused must have echoed across the walls that separate our worlds. I will safely assume that her grief at being torn from paradise was tremendous, which also must have moved the Valar to action. Not only that, but there must have been an urgent need to remove her from this world, and she would have had to go willingly. They would not simply take her," Doran concluded, sitting back down in his armchair by the fire.

Giles sat down, his countenance enveloped in despair. Doran watched them all with sympathy and compassion, but he could not help but feel compelled to warn them away from trying to bring their friend back home.

"But Buffy wouldn't have just up and chosen to go…" Willow reasoned somewhat desperately. "It isn't just her friends and the Slayer stuff," she told Doran, her eyes filling a little. "She has a sister. Their mother is dead, and their father- he doesn't seem to give a damn what happens to his family. Buffy's all Dawn has as far as real family goes. Buffy wouldn't just abandon her…"

"She chose to do so when she died in her sister's place," Doran pointed out gently. "It was self-sacrifice, I have no doubt, but surely one who bears all the burdens of the Slayer longs for peace."

Xander, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets shook his head silently and stared at the floor. "I hate that you said that," the young man said quietly, and then sighed, "because it makes sense. Don't forget Will, she ran away when things got really bad after she sent Angel to hell. Who's to say that she wasn't feeling so low she took a way out when it was offered?"

Willow sank down onto the couch, a few tears escaping her eyes. "So what are we supposed to do, just accept this? I can't do that."

Xander looked at her sharply. Her tone frightened him. Despite her despondency, her voice and face held the same determinedness they'd had on the night she told them it was time to bring Buffy back.

She went on, her voice thick with unshed tears. "If we could just find a way…to check on her. Then if she wants to come back here, we can help her."

"Could you really let her go, Will? If she didn't want to come home, could you really walk away?"

Willow didn't answer. Doran regarded her for a few moments. "Do you know what it is to live in regret, my dear?"

"Is it anything like denial?" Xander joked weakly. "'Cause I think we know all about that place."

"I have lived in a state of constant regret for millennia," Doran stated blatantly. "I have endured each day with the knowledge of the things I have done fresh in my mind. My heart remains in Arda, the world of my birth, the world where my wife and children still reside. It is the place I long to be with everything that is in me, but it is also the one place I can no longer bear to be." He walked over to where Willow sat and gazed down at her benevolently. "If you continue down this path, you may suffer a similar fate."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and tear-filled, but still somehow defiant. "I don't think you and I are the same at all," she bit out deliberately.

"No, perhaps not." Doran turned away from her and walked until he stood in front of the fireplace. He looked up at his father's portrait for a moment before speaking again. "My father was a master craftsman. He created three jewels called the Silmarils, which I mentioned before. They were 

glorious, unmatched." His voice softened with wonder, as if he were gazing on the jewels for the first time. "You must understand," he said, "these were not just baubles created for some lady's vanity. They contained the light of the Two Trees of Valinor, whose fruit eventually became the sun and the moon."

"Uh…I think I speak for everyone when I say 'huh'?" Xander interjected.

Doran sighed, but not with impatience. "To explain everything to you, the creation of Arda, the music of Ilúvatar and the Ainur, would take more time than you can spare." He turned to them and shrugged mildly. "Suffice it to say that Arda is a world of infinite wonders. My father could never recreate what he had made. He poured his essence into the Silmarils. They were sacred and _alive_. Even after the Two Trees had been destroyed by the evil Lord Melkor and Ungoliant, he refused the Valar's plea to hand over the jewels in order to restore the Trees. He said to them, 'It may be that I can unlock my jewels, but never again shall I make their like; and if I must break them, I shall break my heart.'"

"Ummmm…" Xander uttered.

Doran chuckled sympathetically. "My friend, would you prefer I sing the entire story, while I accompany myself on the harp?" He gestured toward the instrument on the wall, and looked toward the group. Giles and Lorne looked highly interested at the idea, but Xander visibly blanched. Willow's gaze was once again fixed upon the portrait and she seemed to be in another world altogether.

"Perhaps another time," Doran suggested, and sat down in his armchair. Leaning back and settling into the cushions, his eyes took on a faraway look. The fire crackled in the hearth, taking on new life when only embers remained before. When he began speaking again, everyone was silent, focused on the storyteller and transported into the swirling intricacies of the past.

"After the Trees were destroyed, and their light forever extinguished, the Valar- beings of great power in Arda- were in despair. Melkor had been one of their own, but his music was discordant and born of ignorance and evil. He sought to mock and destroy everything they and Ilúvatar had created. He coveted the Silmarils and murdered my grandfather, Finwë, then escaped across the sea with them.

"My father's grief and fury were unfathomable. He blamed the Valar for the deeds of the Dark Enemy of the World, or Morgoth, as he now named him. My six brothers and I swore an oath to our father to retrieve the jewels no matter what it took. How could we not? We grieved alongside him." He shook his head grimly, and his eyes shifted to the framed linen canvas that had captured Giles' interest earlier. "Never in my life would I have dreamed of swearing such a terrible oath." His eyes riveted on the script on the wall, he began to recite:

"Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean,

brood of Morgoth or bright Vala,

Elda or Maia or Aftercomer,

Man yet unborn upon Middle-earth,

neither law, nor love, nor league of swords,

dread nor danger, not Doom itself,

shall defend him from Fëanor, and Fëanor's kin,

whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh,

finding keepeth or afar casteth

a Silmaril. This swear we all:

death we will deal him ere Day's ending,

woe unto world's end! Our word hear thou,

Eru Allfather! To the everlasting

Darkness doom us if our deed faileth.

On the holy mountain hear in witness

and our vow remember, Manwë and Varda!"

Doran's gaze shifted to the riveted and horrified Giles. "You can well imagine what occurred. Never before had Elf taken a sword to Elf. Our oath was binding. The Everlasting Dark would be called upon any who should break it. We slaughtered the Teleri, the shipbuilders, and took their ships across the sea to Middle Earth, which we were forbidden to do.

"We fought Morgoth's armies, and were victorious, but my father's fury urged him to press on. He was besieged by Balrogs, great demons made of fire and shadow. He fought valiantly, but in the end, he was defeated. We managed to drive the demons off, and as my father died, he told us to avenge him and keep the oath." Grey eyes now sought Willow, who sat frozen and staring at the fire. "His fiery spirit reduced his body to ashes."

Doran stood, and paced before the fire, his eyes now cast down. His voice had been gradually taking on a strange foreign lilt, and it became even more pronounced as he came to the most terrible part of the story.

"Simply put, Morgoth was eventually overthrown, and the Silmarils were dispersed among different factions of Elves. Over the next few hundred years, my brothers and I tracked each of them down, and we participated in two more Kinslayings, each more terrible than the last. One by one, my brothers fell in battle until my eldest brother Maedhros and I were all that remained. One Silmaril was lost to us forever, but the last two were held in a camp of the Elves who had just defeated Morgoth. I tried to dissuade my brother from yet another blood bath, but he was determined we should fulfill our oath."

He looked at them with such grief and regret in his face that no one in the room could help but feel his anguish. "We finally had what was ours by right, even though we had long ago lost that right by our misdeeds. Our hearts ached for a past that could never be recovered. Nothing could ever be like it was, but we failed to see that. It was not until we had the two Silmarils in our hands that the full weight of our sins came to rest upon our shoulders."

Doran's voice broke with emotion, and he held his hands out in front of him, as if in supplication. "My father's creations burned our hands as we tried to hold onto them. _Burned_! It was torment beyond what either of us could bear. Such a pain," he said as he glanced at Willow. "I would not wish upon anyone. The agony was such that my brother threw himself into a fiery pit, and he and the Silmaril were forever lost." He swallowed hard, and then continued softly. "Mine, I- I threw into the sea. I could not find the courage to destroy myself as I ought to have. It is only because of the intervention of the most benevolent and compassionate of the Valar, Nienna, that I was not destroyed and punished beyond comprehension."

Doran moved to the window facing the beach, and stared out into the dark horizon. "You asked me how I came to this world." He braced his arm against the pane, and curled his hand into a fist. "For centuries, perhaps, I can never be sure how long, I wandered the shores of Middle Earth, gazing across the sea to Valinor, the land of my birth. I was forbidden to return, but I could not help my longing. One night, I was visited by a glowing lady, all in grey. I knew her immediately. She mourns for every wound that Arda has suffered, and comforts the spirits of the dead. She brings them strength and wisdom is one of the most powerful of the Valar.

"She told me that she plead with the other Valar to spare me from my lonely fate. Although I could not return to my family, I could escape from the place of my dreadful crimes and forge a new life, though I could never forget what harm I had helped to bring about. Because I had shown mercy to a pair of Elf children during the last Kinslaying, the Valar agreed to transport me. I was on the shores of England before I could even take a last look at Arda."

He turned back to them, his voice now calm and returning to a more neutral inflection. "I have no doubt, due to your evidence, that your friend is now living in Arda, although I can't tell you where. I imagine that Nienna is the one who offered your friend sanctuary from her grief." He walked toward them slowly, carefully measuring his steps. "As far as bringing her back…" Doran's eyes took them in all at once. "Beware."

* * *

"_It's here. This house holds the key."_

The old lighthouse shone brightly in the moonlight. Whispers of ancient magic surrounded it and lived within its corridors. The red demon of her nightmares prowled in and out of the rooms, and the walls shifted behind him.

Then everything burst into flames.

Willow's eyes snapped open wide, just as the fire started to rush toward her. Rolling to her back, she waited until the burning feeling in her veins abated. _Breathe through it, just breathe,_ she coached herself. Rhythmically clenching her hands open and shut, she willed her palms to cool, until at last the fire no longer consumed her skin. She sat up shakily, sweating and thirsty. Her pale, trembling hand 

reached for the water she constantly kept at her bedside nowadays, but her fingers only brushed the air.

Her mind took a moment to adjust and remember that she was not in her room at Buffy's house. A wave of dizziness swept through her brain, and she braced her hands on the mattress in order to stay upright. _I'm getting worse,_ she thought, fighting down panic. _I can't go back there again. I won't!_ Clenching her teeth in determination, Willow swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, only to be immediately assailed by a head rush.

"I've got to stop. I've got to stop going back to him," she told herself sternly, hoping she paid attention to her trademark "resolve face". Her panicky heartbeat was stubbornly refusing to abate, and she shuffled over to the window, leaning her forehead against the cool pane of glass. She breathed deeply and listened to the wind in the trees and the gentle crash of the surf. When she felt calmer, she pushed away from the window and propped herself up against the wall.

Things were getting kind of gross. She had been a "good girl" for her friends for a few weeks, but ultimately she could not stay away from using magic. The need made her fingers itch, and her head ache. _This must be what withdrawal feels like for drug addicts_, she thought. Only, she wasn't in complete withdrawal, and the symptoms were getting worse. Vomiting, tremors, and all sorts of icky things that the human body does to expel toxins were a daily ritual for her.

Yes, she had been in recovery, albeit a slow one. Until the day she met him.

She couldn't help but find his domain that lurked just beyond the sight of those who possessed no magical abilities. Only demons and people like herself could find the place, and she only happened upon it on one of the rare days she was "unsupervised".

She'd avoided being escorted to her doctor appointment by freaking Giles out with the mention of going to see her gynecologist. No one else was available to go with her, so Willow set out early in order to have some the alone time she'd been craving.

She hadn't even gone looking for any kind of fix; she was just at a really low point that day. An attempted reconciliation with Tara had gone kablooey, what with her ex-girlfriend "just not being ready to trust her" quite yet.

Willow shook her head, trying to still the tears forming in her eyes. Well, she'd gone and messed up but good now, and if Tara found out about all of Willow's sneaking around, then she had absolutely no reason to trust her, and it would be over, no question.

She didn't mean to go in. The magic cloaking of the place called to the blood in her veins, and she was so weak, she could not resist. The people in the waiting room frightened her a little. They were so withdrawn and pathetic, but Willow thought she could handle it. Just a little touch and she'd fly for a while and get some relief.

But it wasn't like that. Rack's specialty was awakening senses Willow didn't know she had. Suddenly, she was feeling connected to everything. She could sense magic everywhere she went, and she couldn't turn it off. The only respite was another visit to that filthy apartment, and another violation when he took his "little tours". It made her feel dirty and sick at first, but she desensitized herself as she continued seeing him for magical booster shots.

She was on a downward spiral and a little afraid of herself. It was a good thing she wasn't allowed to enter The Magic Box. If she did, everything in the store would probably fly off the shelves and stick to her as if she were a magnet.

When the last visit produced such a terrifying nightmarish vision, Willow knew she had to stop. It would nearly kill her, but she had to stop. The visions were creeping into her sleep at night, setting her body on fire. Everything was like fire to her: the blood in her veins, her skin, her breath. When Doran had told them of his father's fiery spirit consuming his corpse, Willow had shuddered, wondering how long it would be before the same thing happened to her.

And then the nightmare came again tonight, of course.

Willow slid down the wall to sit on the floor, and cradled her head in her hands. She was at a loss as to what to do. Her friends were the ones she needed the most at this time, but they were the last people she could turn to. She smiled ruefully. She felt a little like Doran. Lost, but in plain sight.

A little sob of despair escaped her mouth. They had done all this research, traveled all this way to find the one person on the face of the Earth who could help them, only to discover he could do nothing (or would do nothing, as Willow thought sullenly) to help them find Buffy. They were no nearer to bringing her home than they were the night she had disappeared.

How was she going to make everything up to her best friend, if said friend had skipped this dimension? How was she going to put anything right? Buffy had brought her up from the depths of loserdom to show her a world where she could make a difference. If Buffy hadn't come along she would never have- well, she'd probably be dead, or even a vampire, thought Willow, as she remembered her alternate reality vampire self with a roll of her eyes.

Sighing, Willow stood, trying hard to ignore the buzzing in her brain that had started the moment she'd entered this house. _Probably some residual magic crap from Scarface,_ she thought resentfully. She flopped belly-down onto the bed. Willow cringed as the buzzing increased, making her feel like her brain had been set to vibrate.

She grabbed a pillow and put it over her head. _No good,_ she realized. _I just trapped myself in here with what feels like a beehive. Plus, I can't breathe. _She tossed the pillow aside in agitation, and stood up again, beginning to pace around the room.

_Something in this house is calling to me._

The thought came to her without preamble, without any kind of reasoning, but it resounded so clearly within her mind that she knew it to be the truth. She knew it was dangerous for her to go looking for the whatever-it-was. She knew she shouldn't leave the room. She knew she should probably bang her head against the wall until she was unconscious instead of searching out whatever the Elf had in his house that was drawing her to it.

As if in a trance, as though she was watching herself and had no will of her own, Willow crept to the door and opened it. She stepped into the darkened hall, her feet making no sound. Her heart pounded in her ears, and the buzzing became wilder when she spotted a door at the end of the hall.

It pulled her like a magnet, and it seemed to take forever for her to reach it. Even when she told herself again and again to turn around and go back to her room, she saw her hand reaching for the doorknob, saw her fingers encircle it, saw her wrist turn, and then the door was open.

Her bare feet slid up to the first step of the winding staircase, and she seemed to float up, up and around to the top. The buzzing turned to thrumming, like the beat of a bass drum, over and over, pulsing behind her eyes. The fire in her veins turned to electricity, and her whole body became live with it, powering her movement into a tiny room, empty except for a few boxes, and a table.

The table was covered with a white sheet, but Willow could see the round object concealed beneath it. She raised her hand, and the sheet slipped soundlessly to the floor, revealing a large sphere that at first glance looked nothing more than a giant marble.

Willow watched as her hand drew closer and closer to the object, the energy emanating from it frightening her with its intensity. She hesitated for a hair's breath, but then her palm made contact, and suddenly the room fell away as the sphere began to glow.


	32. Chapter 32

Ahhh, posting time at last! This chapter has been done for a while, everyone, and I sincerely apologize for the delay. Between my parents visiting, performances of Sondheim shows, (Sondheim rules!), sicknesses, busy betas and the holiday season, it's been difficult to get the chapter edited. But here it is at last, at last, and I hope you like it!

I offer many thanks to my betas and Season's Greetings to all.

Chapter 32

"Willow?"

"Willow!"

"Uh, Willow…"

_Willow, Willow, Willow…_

She could hardly see. Two worlds spun around her in a dizzying current. Different shapes and colors danced before her eyes. Shadows from past, present and future rushed around her and through her. She wanted to reach out and grab a hold of them, make them stand still, but her hands were bound to the orb. She could not let go.

Part of her, a very strong part did not want to let go. This was a window to another world, and it called to her blood like nothing ever had before. Power surged through her fingertips and spread throughout her body, circulating back to the orb like the blood nourishing the heart. It was agony and ecstasy all at once, and she knew exactly why she had been led to this room and this object.

"What is that thing?"

"What's it doing to her?"

"Get it out of her hands, now!"

At first she had thought that she could not remove her hands from it, but now she was starting to think it was the other way around. It was not letting her go. Willow felt a presence very close to her, she felt both relief and dread that the orb would be taken from her. She felt the danger from all the magic and knowledge that came to her through the sphere, and she craved it as much as she feared it.

Beautiful beings clad in earth colors danced in soft illumination among silver trees and green glens. A multi-leveled white city cut from the side of a mountain stood shining proudly in the morning sun. Chimneys puffed smoke from cheerful houses carved from green hillsides. Blood-soaked battlefields that smelled of death appeared before her eyes, and black-shrouded wraiths riding on the backs of terrible beasts flew at her over a wasted land full of soot and smoke.

Willow's body shook violently, and her eyes began to darken. She couldn't take this much longer. As much as she wanted to hold on, madness was threatening to overtake her. The sensory overload rose to a panicky crescendo, and Willow fought back as hard as she could. She had to break through. Three tremulous words forced their way past her clenched lips, and she strained to connect with the grey eyes that loomed in front of her face.

"P-please help m-me…"

Then everything went black.

* * *

Doran held the palantír, now finally dormant, away from him. He'd grabbed the cloth he used to drape it with, slipped it around where the girl had clutched it, and gently pulled it from her grasp. She had fainted after that, which did not surprise him in the least.

"What _is _that thing?" Xander asked from his position on the floor next to Willow. As soon as she had collapsed, the boy was by her side, holding her and trying to revive her.

Doran didn't reply right away. He was too disturbed by what had just occurred. By all rights, the girl should never have even been able to get into this room. The door had two sets of locks, and the last and only time he had used the keys was when he had moved here and secreted the orb inside the room for safekeeping. Walking over to the door, he examined the locks, and seeing no damage to them, he frowned and looked back at the unconscious girl.

"This was under solid lock and key," he ground out angrily. "How did she get in here? How did she know to come here?" His voice was beginning to increase in volume with each question as his ire grew.

The other three looked at him in shock at his tone, and Giles and Xander exchanged a troubled glance before the older man replied, "She must still be practicing. After all the measures we took to prevent her, she's betrayed us again."

"Practicing what?" Doran spat, before Xander could draw breath to defend his friend.

"M-magic, witchcraft, whatever you might call it," Giles said tremulously. "She's been treating it much too casually, causing a few disasters and we, her friends asked her to stop. Apparently, she hasn't." He looked down at the girl sadly. "She's becoming more powerful, and it's spiraling out of control." He dropped his hands to his sides helplessly. "I don't know what's to be done."

"Nothing, if that crystal ball has sent her into a coma," Xander stated heatedly. "It's obvious that Willow's been going behind our backs. It's a done deal. So, can we focus on helping her not die right now?" He turned to Doran, and stared at the shrouded orb. "What is that thing, and what did it do to my best friend?"

* * *

He was waiting for her to approach him. She knew this. It was quite clear by the way he would glance back at her over his shoulder, his eyes hopeful but guarded. Every time he looked at her like that her heart would sink a little further down into the dirt. Buffy wanted to talk to him, but what could she say? "Sorry I jumped you like a nympho, and then proved I'm in serious need of prescription meds by cutting myself"?

Three days and three nights had passed since that horrible scene between them, and she was no closer to finding a resolution. The morning after their altercation had been the most painful. When he had awoken after sleeping the sleep of the very exhausted, he was uncharacteristically silent and somber. He spoke very little to the others, and not at all to Buffy. When they departed from their camp, he was the first to mount his horse, and rode off ahead without offering Buffy a seat.

She had stood there, completely humiliated, her heart somewhere in the vicinity of her knees, when a sympathetic Elladan handed her up onto his mount. Numbly, she rode with him until evening when they stopped for the night.

She wasn't a complete outcast. Gimli still chatted with her, as did the twins, but conversation was a little stilted and superficial. Legolas seemed to be somewhat more relaxed that night, but it seemed to Buffy that the ball was still in her court. She just couldn't bring herself to hit it.

The weather was turning very chilly, and what Buffy called the "Indian Summer" was fading and turning into full-fledged autumn. She still wore only her jeans and Legolas' spare silver tunic. It hung down to her knees and even though the material felt like silk, it was surprisingly warm. Unfortunately for her, the biting cold wind made it insufficient for the season.

On the second day, Buffy started to feel a little angry. It wasn't as if she was the one who started all the kissy face games. In fact, it was Huggy the Elf who held her close and smelled her hair. If that wasn't an invitation to a full-on make-out session, then Buffy didn't know her signals, and that was impossible. She was the Slayer. That made her Signal Girl!

_Or not,_ Buffy thought as she sighed inwardly. When it came to demons, apocalypses, and general slay matters, Buffy was all about reading signals. When it came to relationships, specifically relationships with male-type people, she was Clueless Girl. Her brain took her down a trip to memory lane as it recalled Cryptic Angel, Parker the Poophead, and Riley, the Cheating Cheater Who Cheats. _Not really on top of things there, Buffy. So to speak._ She didn't even want to think about how she missed the obviousness of Spike's crush on her. _Shudder_.

So it seemed she really didn't know how her relationship, or friendship or acquaintanceship with Legolas really stood. She had felt as though they were becoming very close friends, but now everything was screwed up, and Buffy couldn't tell whose fault it was.

As the day wore on, and Legolas kept giving her those wary glances over his shoulder, Buffy's anger towards the Elf grew. How dare he treat her like this, ignoring her and then looking at her like he was afraid the whore of Babylon would attack him again? It was infuriating, and Buffy resolved that she wasn't going to apologize for anything. Until he was flat on the ground, kissing her boots and weeping tears of regret, she wasn't even going to try to talk to him.

By nightfall, she was alternating between being furious with him and trying to understand his point of view. After all, if what he said about the non-casual sex lives of Elves was true, then he had no experience. She didn't want to be like the guys who got mad at girls they felt had led them on. That would be like a huge betrayal of her entire gender. And what was the male equivalent of a cock-tease, anyway?

The third day, the coldest by far, found Buffy still very frustrated and conflicted, not to mention having an extremely difficult time tying her bedroll and provisions together. Her fingers were frozen and her shivering was so out of control that she could not tie the strings of her pack together. Not a good start to the day. _Plus, _she thought ruefully, _there's nothing but Lembas for breakfast. Ick._ Her thoughts about the situation between her and Legolas created a grand discordant jumble in her mind, and it made her clumsy and irate. She let out a tearful expletive and threw down her belongings so she could have a good long self-pity party. _Yeah great, Buffy, acting like a two-year old should warm you right up, _she chided herself silently.

Suddenly she felt a presence behind her. Buffy was about to turn and sheepishly acknowledge that she knew darn well she was being a giant baby. Before she could move however, something was placed around her shoulders, and a gentle hand smoothed it down, creating delicious warmth throughout her body, and her nerves calmed almost instantly.

Buffy looked down at the garment, and saw that it was a grey cloak with a green, leaf-shaped brooch for a clasp. She drew it further around herself, and slowly turned, knowing whose face she would see. She hadn't been this close to him in days, and she was sure he could hear her heart slamming against her chest. Hesitantly, she met his eyes, and her throat went dry. Buffy opened her mouth, just to utter a "thank you" but she couldn't seem to manage it.

Legolas looked down at her, his expression thoughtful but a little sad. He reached for the cloak and fastened the clasp around her neck. His hands settled on her shoulders, and once again, he smoothed down the cloak, sliding his hands down her arms before letting them drop.

Warmth flooded her body at the contact, but before either of them could speak, Elrohir called out that they must be going. Buffy watched as Legolas knelt down to finish her packing for her, and then stood, slinging the roll over his shoulder. Without a word or a glance, he walked away from her.

Stunned, and momentarily soothed, Buffy watched him as he tied her pack to his horse. Her muddled thoughts started interpreting his actions, and just as suddenly as she had been calmed, her ire rose again. Was she riding with him today? Was that what he expected? He didn't talk to her for three days, he helps her out, and now they're going to be riding buddies again? _Hell, no!_ Buffy fumed, and she strode angrily to him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean, what is your deal?"

"My…deal?"

"Were you planning on talking to me anytime soon? Do you think we are all of a sudden gonna be riding together again after you ignore me for three days? What kind of bullshit is this, Leggy?"

"Er…"

"Gimme my pack!" she demanded.

"What? Why?"

"Give me my pack, dammit!"

Legolas stared at her incredulously, but eventually he turned back to the horse and untied her bedroll from the saddle. He held it out to her, his eyes full of hurt and bewilderment.

Buffy bristled in irritation. "Don't give me that wounded puppy look, mister."

Legolas drew back, frowning in confusion. "I simply do not understand why-"

"Why I don't want to ride with you? Why don't you take the day to figure it out? Meanwhile, I'll ride with Gimli." Buffy grabbed her pack from his outstretched hands and began to turn away from him.

"Gimli?"

"Yeah, Gimli. He and I have a lot more in common," she replied as she strode away. "We smell alike, for starters."

"Buffy!" he called after her. When she did not turn, he called again, his voice sounding a touch angry. "Buffy!"

"And I'm keeping the cloak, jackass!" She yelled back without turning.

* * *

Buffy did indeed ride with Gimli that day, although they had to take turns on the pony. The Dwarf didn't mind walking. He told her it kept him warm and gave Buffy a chance to practice her riding skills.

"Don't grip the reins so tightly or you'll make him twitchy," Gimli admonished her more than once.

"Sorry," she grumbled absentmindedly.

After a few more similar exchanges, Gimli sighed deeply, and told her they would stop to water the animal, and then catch up with the others later. They led Ironfoot to a small creek, and Gimli rubbed the pony's neck as it drank its fill. Buffy, still very much preoccupied, simply stood and stared in the direction which the others had ridden, her arms pulling the cloak more snugly around her body.

"And how long is this going to go on?" Gimli inquired, somewhat teasingly.

"Huh?" was Buffy's witty reply.

"How long are you and the Elf going to moon about like this?"

"Moon? There's no mooning. No one's mooning anybody!" Buffy cried defensively, although a telltale blush stained her cheeks. "There are frowny faces, and confusion and some unresolved tension, but mooning is not in any way-"

"No, of course not," Gimli replied with a chuckle. "No mooning at all." He patted the pony as it lifted its head from the water, and began to lead it away to follow the others.

"Is there something you want to say about the whole situation?" Buffy asked her defenses ready to strike back at any accusations. "'Cause if he's been talking to you, well, I can tell you he's not the innocent little party he's making himself out to be," she huffed.

When Gimli said nothing for a long moment, Buffy eyed him sheepishly and trudged behind him, muttering, "I don't know what you're talking about, anyway."

"Neither do I dear," Gimli replied with a wink.

* * *

"This is getting ridiculous," Buffy told Legolas firmly. "We need to talk."

Five days of near silence was enough, and Buffy was tired of replaying their torrid encounter in her head over and over. Legolas had his back to her, and he paused in the task in which he had immersed himself as soon as the group stopped riding. Buffy knew avoidance when she saw it, mostly because she was so damn good at it herself.

Twilight was approaching, and all the others were making camp a few feet away, so Buffy thought she'd grab the chance to confront her erstwhile friend. She really hoped he would remain her friend, although the word brought a frightening pang to her heart whenever she thought of the Elf as such. She brushed the feeling aside however, and strode up to him where he stood tending to Arod.

"Aye, we do." Legolas replied softly and he turned to face her, his expression inscrutable.

Buffy studied him closely during the silence that followed, and the longer she did so, the more the Elf's façade began to crack. His eyes betrayed something that the Slayer thought might be fear, and she wondered what was eating at him. She wanted to know exactly why he had ignored her these past few days. Buffy knew their encounter in the woods was intense, not to mention jarring, and she certainly held some of the blame for what happened, but not all culpability could be laid at her doorstep.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy searched for something to say, something that would draw out his reasoning and probe into the conflict in order to resolve all the hurt feelings. Shifting her stance to pull herself up to her full height, she said,

"So."

Legolas just looked at her a moment, and dropped his gaze for a split second before meeting her eyes and replying,

"So."

* * *

Willow lay on Doran's couch, a cool cloth on her head and a glass of water in her hand. She'd taken about four aspirin in the last hour since she'd awoken, and she listened dopily as Doran described the object she'd found in his attic.

The seeing-stone, or palan- palpatine, pale interior…(Willow was having trouble taking in new words at the moment) was another magical doohickey invented by the Elf's father. _Palantír!_ She recalled triumphantly. _I knew I'd get it. Whew, I was channeling Buffy there for a sec._ _And,_ _yay for my addled brain. _She closed her eyes as she listened to him describing what she had held and seen. She was having trouble concentrating on the lecture, what with the alternating feelings of elation and frustration hitting her. She now had the means and the ability to bring Buffy home, but Mr. McMeanie Elf wasn't going to let her use it. _I'll clobber him as soon as the couch stops spinning_, she thought sourly.

"The palantíri were devices used for communication from stone to stone," Doran explained. "How many were created is unknown, but they made it possible for people of great power to see any part of the world." He warily eyed the prone figure on the couch. "This one was given to me by the Valar when I departed from Arda, only as a way to look upon my home," he told them sadly.

"It looks like a giant marble," Xander commented derisively. "So it's like an ancient video phone, but round. What's with all the crazy, scary Willow mojo, Encyclopedia Brown?"

"I have used it only once or twice in the past century. Its power has become very unstable in this realm," he said darkly, pausing for a long moment. "Using the palantír is dangerous enough for me, but it is even more so in the hands of such as her," he gestured angrily towards Willow.

"Hey!" Willow objected weakly, her eyes still squeezed shut. "Lying right here. And I'm not dangerous. Just dizzy."

"Allowing you to take the palantír would prove disastrous." Doran replied. "As I said, its powers are as volatile as you are unbalanced and untrustworthy."

Anger surged within Willow. She opened her eyes and quickly sat up to face the Elf. "That is going way outside the- woah, head rush!" Willow regretted her position shift as dizziness took over, and fell back down to a prone position. She covered her face with her hands and waited for the ill feeling to pass.

"So why not just get rid of it, if it's so dangerous?" Xander asked.

"And how do you suggest I dispose of it, exactly? Throw it in some trash heap only to have the wrong person discover it and misuse it?"

Lorne, clearly uncomfortable with all the recent drama, shook his head and remarked as he stood over Willow, "Man, I've known people to be strung out on magic, but you are the strung-outiest." He turned to his old friend. "Doran, I am sorry for bringing this to your doorstep. I had no idea this would happen," he sighed, and then brightened suddenly. "You got any Grey Goose?" With that, he ambled off into the kitchen.

"Whaddayou mean I'm 'untrustworthy' anyway?" Willow drawled when her head started to clear. "Them's fightin' words, buddy."

Doran turned to her, astonished. "Must I list the ways?"

When Willow made an equally astonished noise of indignation, Giles approached her sternly. "I see I'm going to have to play the role of your conscience yet again, since you seem to have completely lost yours since Buffy's resurrection."

"When are you going to stop beating me up about that?" Willow cried.

"You broke into a locked room in someone else's home, Willow!" Giles countered.

"I didn't know what I was doing! I was completely out of…" Willow trailed off and as the implication of what she was about to say hit her, she gasped in dismay.

"Control," Xander finished quietly from his corner of the room. "Willow, I'm seriously scared," he stated plainly. "You've been scaring me a lot lately, but what happened upstairs…" he shook his head. "I don't know what you've been into, but the fact that you weren't even aware of yourself when you magically lock-picked the door makes me think you're headed somewhere that's bad."

"Xander…" Willow's eyes began to fill as her best friend's words struck her to the core.

"And the thought of you and that…thing over there," he gestured to the covered palantír on the mantle over the fireplace. "On a scale of one to ten of scariness? That's about a billion and one."

Xander rose from his chair and went to kneel beside Willow on the floor. He took her face in his hands, and looked into her eyes pleadingly. "Please, Will. This is me, here. You need to stop. I'll help you in any way I can, you know that. Just come back to me, please. Tell me what's going on."

Willow couldn't stop the tears. A dam burst, and she sobbed out her heartache, her regret and her shame all over her childhood friend. He held her tightly, as if trying to take her pain into himself. He let her cry like that for a long time.

When the tears subsided, she took a deep shuddering breath and came to a painful decision. "Xander, I'm really scared to tell you what I'm about to tell you, but I kind of think I have to." She could not bear to see the remonstration she knew would be on Xander or Giles' faces, so she kept her head on her friend's shoulder, and her eyes on his plaid shirt. In muffled words, and in fits and starts, she poured out the story of how she had found the warlock known as Rack, and the boosts she had been getting from him. "That's why everything went wonky upstairs. I'm all full of strange mojo, and I haven't burned it off yet. I'll be okay in a couple of days, and then I'll stop. I promise I'll stop!" She stifled a sob, and squeeze her eyes shut, waiting for the scolding and the disappointment to hit her from all sides.

Instead of shouts, a small silence followed her confession. Then Giles spoke, his voice very gentle. "Willow, I hope that you know that I only- that I'm only trying to look out for you. I have great affection and respect for you, and I'm not trying to beat you up. If I've been hard on you, it's because frankly, I'm worried sick." He sat down and removed his glasses, leaning forward on his arms and kept his gaze on the floor. "Don't forget that I- in my youth I made many mistakes. When I foolishly toyed with dark magic, the consequences were far-reaching, as you recall. I don't want that for you." He sighed remorsefully. "It's my fault, I know. I should have taken better care to ensure that you went at a more steady pace, but you progressed so quickly that I thought-" he shook his head.

Willow was silent for a long while. She pulled away from Xander, drying her tears. "It's not your fault, Giles. I get it, I've been delving into the realm of the dark and spooky, and it's not good," Willow said quietly. "But I hate to think that what I've been doing for the past four years, you know, using magic to fight the badness is something you regret 'letting' me do." Her tone was becoming slightly more belligerent as she went on. "You're Buffy's Watcher, not mine, and I studied magic because I wanted to help!" Before Giles could make a valid contradiction, she continued quickly. "I know what I've been doing lately is deserving of intervention tactics. And-and pulling Buffy out of heaven, well- not my greatest idea," she admitted grudgingly. "But I'm not a complete disaster case. I'm tooting my own horn, here, because nobody else will," she said, looking at Xander pointedly.

"Willow, we're not trying to demonize you!" Xander objected. "As far as horn tootin', well, I've always tooted your horn, - wait, that didn't come out right-"

Willow stood shakily, pointing to the palantír, which Doran stood next to, protectively. "This is the way to bring Buffy home, I _know_ it! As soon as I touched the thing, I knew what to do. I'm right this time."

"Oh, no…"

"I will not allow it!"

"It's too dangerous, Willow," Xander, Doran and Giles all spoke at the same time, overlapping each other's efforts to dissuade Willow from her current frame of mind.

"Why doesn't anyone get it? I'm just trying to make things better!" Willow cried defensively.

"You and George W. both, Sweetie, and someone has to tell you guys, it ain't working!" Lorne called from the kitchen.

"Great, now Green 'Ben Cartwright' is on my case!" Willow slapped her hands over her eyes in exasperation.

"Oh, marvelous," came Lorne's muted reply as he rooted around in the refrigerator.

"If you think for one minute that I will allow you near the palantír-" Doran began to reiterate angrily.

"All right, let's just calm down a moment," Giles suggested cautiously. "I think you need to realize, Willow, that whatever this fellow, this Rack, has done to you has put you in serious jeopardy." He approached Willow and gently pulled her hands from her face. Despite his reassuring tone, she kept her eyes down as he continued speaking. "Any attempt to use this, er, palantír in the state of instability you're currently in could result in- well any number of catastrophes."

Willow tensed at this statement, but did not disagree. Xander sidled up to her, putting an arm around her shoulders in loving support.

"Listen to him, Will," he whispered.

"I'm listening," she said, somewhat defensively.

"We don't know the extent of the powers of this object. We don't know what kind of poison this warlock has tainted you with, so I suggest- and please just listen and don't get upset-"

"Not a good way to preface anything, Giles," Xander moaned in apprehension.

Giving the youth a fractious look, he continued. "I know of a coven in Devon that we could send you to for a bit." Willow breathed in sharply, and Giles went on before she could speak. "It would be just to help you detoxify, so to speak. Then, after a time, when you come back, we can look into "

"Woah!" Willow's head shot up and her eyes were wide and angry. "Woah, woah, woah!" She yanked her hands out of Giles' grasp and backed away from him, but was stopped by the couch behind her.

"Willow, weren't you listening? You weren't supposed to get upset " Xander's attempt to cajole her went unheard.

Willow's eyes frantically darted back and forth between her friends. She felt closed in on all sides like a caged animal. "You want to send me to some kind of magic Wicca rehab for a 'time'? First of all, rehab? No way, and second of all, time? What time? How much time has gone by while Buffy's been missing? How quickly does time pass where she is? How much time have we wasted until now? No more! We know where she is, and I know how to get her home!" Willow's eyes began to dilate and blacken. She trembled and shuddered as the volatile magic within her took control. "There's no question in my mind as to what we should do, now get out of my way!"

With a violent sweep of her arms, Willow thrust Xander and Giles backwards, the unspoken spell cracking the air around them. Xander crashed on top of the coffee table, sending the tea tray and cups flying. Giles flew into the wall, hitting his head hard on the frame of the tapestry that framed Fëanor's Oath. The glass cracked and the Oath and the Watcher slid down to the floor.

Doran stared her down, his grey eyes flashing in fury. Willow strode fearlessly forward, her arms extended towards him as he blocked the palantír with his body.

Lorne chose that moment to enter the room, a bottle of vodka in his hand. "Hey, Doran, I found some cranberry juice, do you have any grapefr-" He broke off, surveying the tense scene before him.

"I will die before allowing this to fall into your hands," the Elf vowed fervently.

"Not necessary," Willow replied, and raised her arm as if to strike him. He began to block her, but she brought down her hand only in the space between them, and he was knocked aside to the floor. Extending one hand to where the palantír sat she cried, "_Adveho_!"

The palantír flew across the room into her hands, and she clutched it to her. The others watched in fascination and horror as the sphere began to glow once again. Light swirled around Willow, enveloping her and shielding her from their view and their reach. An agonized cry escaped from her lips, and in a burst of white light, she disappeared. Everyone stared in stunned silence at the spot where the witch had stood just seconds before.

Lorne took a swig from the vodka bottle. "I have _got_ to stop letting Angel come into my club."

* * *

He knew they had to talk eventually. It was killing him, this separation, but he had thought it would be better for them both if they stayed away from each other for a while. Of course, he hadn't told her that. How could he without explaining exactly why he needed two days to recover from the onslaught of emotion that he had shared with her that night? He wasn't ready to tell her of their bond, and did not know if he ever would be. Legolas was willing to bear his burden in secret until she returned home and they were parted forever.

At that moment, however, he had to deal with a very angry woman. When she had confronted him, and demanded an explanation for his behavior, he sought to soothe her injured feelings by assuring her that he had not stayed away because he was angry with her. This did not have the effect he had thought it would.

"So…you _forgave _me, like, right away?" Buffy asked Legolas in flagrant disbelief.

"Yes, of course, Buffy," he told her reassuringly. "I understood how distraught you were. I know that your pain drove you to act as you did."

"Thanks," Buffy replied, and Legolas flinched at her biting tone. "So glad you understand my motivations so well. But just so we're clear: you were never angry with me? Not even the littlest bitty bit?"

"Not at all."

She stared at him in open-mouthed shock for a moment. "This is unbelievable! You got over what happened, and you still ignored me for five days? You humiliated me that first morning in front of everyone, Legolas! How could you do that? You let me think I was the worst of the worst! Why, why would you do that, when you knew how bad I felt?" Tears of anger stung her eyes, and she blinked them away impatiently. "You seem to 'know my pain'," she repeated mockingly. "Why did you put me through that?"

In complete shock at both her tirade, and at his inability to predict that she would interpret his silence toward her as derision, he stammered uselessly. "I-I cannot say, except that I-"

Buffy didn't let him finish. "Did you just think that I needed to suffer a little? Buffy doesn't suffer enough, so let's put her through a little more turmoil until she's learned something."

"No, of _course_ not! I simply thought you could…use sometime to forgive yourself for your…actions," he said awkwardly and instantly regretted it when he saw her open-mouthed disbelief.

"You know, you are something else! I've spent the last three days feeling horrible about what I put you through. I'm so amazingly embarrassed that I did what I did, I cringe when I think about it. I'm torturing myself thinking about how I can possibly apologize, and here you are, the whole time, thinking, 'La de da! Oh silly Buffy, I forgive you with all my Elfiness!' You are such a liar! You're pissed at me, and you want me to pay for it, admit it!"

"You misunderstand!" he cried. "It was myself I could not forgive."

Speaking before she had really heard what Legolas had said, she continued her rant. "Well that's…not even…wait, you said…what?" Buffy stared at him as what he'd said began to dawn on her. Legolas' eyes betrayed all the anguish of one who felt impossibly guilty. For a moment, she was tempted to rub it in and let him suffer, but instead she just closed her eyes and sighed.

"It's not…it wasn't your fault," Then Buffy added quickly, "completely."

"It was," Legolas told her firmly. "I merely wanted to help you, and I ended up hurting you in the worst way possible. You trusted me, and I took advantage of your troubled emotional state."

"Well, I wouldn't go _that_ far," Buffy countered, shifting uneasily. "I think the advantage taking was more on my side than yours."

"What do you mean?" asked Legolas, frowning.

"Do I have to go into the details?" Buffy blushed and looked at her feet before summoning up the nerve to continue. "You got all huggy and a little kissy, but it was mostly 'I'm your friend and I'm here for you' type affection. I'm the one who took it a step further."

"You would not have if I had not "

"Are you kidding me, Legolas? Have you _seen_ you?" Buffy stopped, seeing he was looking as uncomfortable as she was starting to feel with the direction this discussion was taking. Not wanting to elaborate completely on how often she had thought of jumping and ravishing him, she skipped ahead.

"I had a need in that moment, and…well, you were there, and I…had no idea you were, well you still are a, you know, a pretty innocent guy…in certain respects." She shoved her hands in her back jeans pockets and shifted uneasily.

Legolas said nothing for a very long moment. When he spoke, it was so quiet but his tone was razor sharp. "And you are not?"

Buffy's eyes shot up to look directly into his. Silently, she dared him to judge her. "I get it. This is the kind of place where a girl saves herself. Things are different where I come from."

Legolas looked away from her. Buffy couldn't tell if it was just her imagination, but something about his expression made him seem more disappointed than judgmental. But it wasn't like when Giles or her mother was disappointed in her for doing something stupid and teenagery. It wasn't even like Xander or Willow's disappointment in her when she wasn't bursting with life after her resurrection. She studied him more closely. Her heart sped up as a feeling of personal loss began to envelop her. The strange thing about was, that she knew the feeling didn't belong to her, but she didn't know where it was coming from. The sensation ended abruptly when Legolas turned back to her and spoke his next words.

"It must never happen again."

Buffy drew back, but instantly recovered her equilibrium. _Fine_, she thought. She opened her mouth to utter a scathing retort, when she was interrupted by the cries of Elladan and Gimli.

"Orcs! To the West!"

"Grab your weapons! We fight this night! Argh!"

Legolas immediately grabbed his weapons and ran to follow the others, leaving Buffy standing alone for only a moment before she went for her own sword and axe.

"This is so not a good time."

* * *

Confusion and anger reigned at the Kestrel Bay Lighthouse. Seconds after Willow had disappeared those who remained looked to each other fruitlessly for answers.

Xander turned to Giles, utterly panicked. "What just happened? Where'd she go?"

Giles, recovering from his violent meeting with the wall behind him shook his head helplessly. "She could be anywhere! _Damn_ it! Damn _her_!"

"Woah, enough with the cursing of my friend, she's not herself!" Xander barked angrily.

Giles held up a hand, trying to calm the boy and stave off another unnecessary fight. Before he could say a word; however, a bellow of rage erupted from the Elf. Everyone quieted, backing up and eyeing their host with trepidation.

His silver eyes turned cold as steel, and his face was a mask of fury. "That witch! In my own home! She dared!"

The others gave him a wide berth as he cursed the red-haired woman who had stolen a sacred object from his sanctuary. Several unsavory alternative names spewed forth from his lips, but Xander declined to challenge them at the moment, too busy with being afraid of the enigmatic Elf.

Lorne, Giles and Xander gathered at the other end of the room in a huddle to try to figure out what was to be done now.

"What do we do?" Xander asked, fear making his voice unsteady. "We have to find her, but we have no idea where she's gone to."

"I think," Giles answered after a moment's thought. "We might have to seriously consider that she might have transported herself to Arda. To go after Buffy," He added when the other two seemed to not comprehend.

"Doubt it," Lorne countered, somewhat snidely. "She's probably at that Denny's off the expressway, ordering a Moons Over My Hammy." When neither Giles nor Xander managed to crack a smile, he rolled his eyes. "You heard Doran. She doesn't have the kind of power to instantly zap herself to a parallel universe. I'm telling you, it's either the Denny's, or she's in a broom closet down the street." He began to take a swig from the vodka bottle, but it was wrenched from his grasp by Giles.

"Oh God. She's gone to Oz and we've got no tornadoes on the radar. How in the hell are we going to get her back now?" Xander began to pace the end of the room frenetically.

"Xander, don't panic!"

"Where'd you find that advice? Some guidebook? Don't Panic, in big friendly letters across the cover." Xander's rambling took on a manic quality, and accompanied by Doran's furious ravings across the room, the house was beginning to resemble a home for lunatics. "Don't panic, don't panic, two people you hold dear have disappeared, pop! Into thin air. Is air really thin?"

"Oh man, this is nuts," moaned Lorne and he made a grab for the bottle. There would have been an all-out tug of war for the liquor, had Giles' cell phone not rung at that very second.

Everyone froze and mouths stopped. They all stared at the phone that Giles had retrieved from his pocket. Coming to his senses, Giles flipped it open and answered his hand shaking as he held it to his ear and listened.

"Dawn! Why are you calling, is everything all right?"

He listened for a moment again, as everyone anxiously awaited an answer. Dawn's voice sounded high-pitched and muffled to the others, and Giles visibly relaxed before clutching the phone to his shoulder and reporting to the others.

"She wants to know why Willow suddenly appeared in her living room unconscious and clutching a giant marble."


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

The battle had been swift and fierce, and the small company was still intact. No major injuries had occurred to any of the group, only Legolas had a small gash in his arm that he probably would not have gotten had he not been concentrating on Buffy's welfare rather than his own. Buffy was quick to point this out as he was being stitched up by Elrohir.

"See, the thing is, that unlike you, I don't seem to need stitches anymore, so maybe next time you can watch your own back instead of hovering over mine," Buffy told him with serious concern.

Legolas winced at the pain of Elrohir's needle and the truth in Buffy's statement. He was well aware that Buffy was able to heal from deadly wounds, but that didn't stop him from being terrified of seeing her so wounded as she had been a few days ago, hovering near death. He didn't care to go through that again, so whenever they engaged in battle, he was ever watchful for her welfare. He was also worried that she might become unnecessarily reckless, taking risks and testing her newfound healing ability to outrageous limits.

He did not bother speaking any of these thoughts to her, however, for he did not wish for anymore altercations with her either. He had thought his observation had been subtle, but she had noticed, especially when he got a slice on the arm from an orc blade.

After the battle was over, the four of them made doubly sure all the orcs were dead. They were, save one, a badly injured Uruk-Hai, which they quickly subdued by binding him to a tree with Elven rope. Legolas glanced back at it, wincing again as the needle pierced his skin once more.

The creature was not moving much, having lost quite a lot of blood, and had exhausted itself struggling vainly against its bindings. They had kept him alive in order to find out why these large parties of orcs and Uruk-Hais were traveling and where they were going. This party had been carrying treasure, presumably out of Moria, on the backs of ponies as well as on their own. This bespoke of something very sinister, and the group felt bound and determined to know to whom this treasure was going.

The sacks were full to bursting with mithril, bejeweled weapons, uncut stones and coins. Gimli took charge of the spoils, and by the light of his torch, he proudly displayed the wealth of the Dwarves to a very incredulous Buffy.

"Impressive, is it not, Slayer?"

Buffy stared at Gimli in speechless astonishment.

"Wow."

"Wow," she said as she slowly shook her head from side to side, never taking her eyes from the display. The pure size of the sight before her was starting to cause her brain to short circuit. "I mean…just wow."

"Uhh…"

"Your eyes are about to pop out of your head, girl."

"I can't help staring at it…there- there's just so _much_ of it!"

"It's the legacy of the Dwarven race, you know."

"I've never…it's…you don't see this kind of thing, you _hear _about it in legends, myths, really…"

Gimli looked at her warily. Her eyes were taking on a glazed look the more she stared. "Perhaps I ought to put this away…" He reached for the flap, intending to close it, but Buffy was too quick for him. She grabbed the corner of the cloth, and pulled it open further to gaze upon the spectacle.

"This is the…you know what that is?" She looked up at Gimli sharply, her maniacal tone making the Dwarf jump back. "That's…_that's_ what you call booty. As in actual, real booty without the hyphen and the 'licious'…"

"Now you're just jabbering nonsense!"

Gimli closed the flap to the sack filled with treasure. Buffy let out a little whimper of disappointment. "No wanna say 'bye' to the pretty, shiny things," she whined.

"I think it's having an ill effect upon your wits, dear," Gimli said as he secured the ties of the satchel together. "I should bury this before it drives you mad."

"No," Buffy replied a little forlornly. "I'll be okay." She turned reluctantly and headed over to where the Elves were gathered near their captive.

"So, what has our friend got to say about all this?" she asked the twins.

"A few grunts, and some growls, but not much else. Typical Uruk-Hai responses," Elladan replied with a disgusted glance toward the dark creature.

"Let me see what I can do," Buffy offered cheerily, and began to walk to the tree where it was bound. She turned when she felt a staying hand on her shoulder. "Let me guess," she sighed wearily. "Legolas doesn't want me to go interrogate the prisoner because…I'm a girl and girls don't do that sort of thing here, or oh! Maybe he's feeling all protective and doesn't want me to risk getting hurt, even though I'm the only one here who is pretty much unkillable. Wake up and smell the orc, Leggo. I'm capable." She met the Elf's gaze defiantly, challenging him to speak or stand down.

Legolas dropped his hand, exasperated. He knew perfectly well she was capable even though he didn't like the idea of her approaching that unpredictable creature by herself. He only meant to offer her his aid, but it was clear she wanted none, especially his. He turned away from her silently and joined the _gwenyn_ by the campfire. He ignored their stares, but kept Buffy within his sight, though he tried not to look like he was looking.

_If that is what she prefers, let her alone, _he told himself sullenly. _'Wake up and smell the orc'_, he repeated to himself derisively. He didn't need to smell the orc. All he had to do was stand downwind of her and the odor was enough to wake up an army of orcs. This thought stopped Legolas in his tracks, and he stifled a laugh. He was being petty! He was never petty. He thought it beneath him, but just now, it was a good release for his annoyed state of mind.

It wasn't fair of him, he knew. She hadn't had the opportunity to bathe during this leg of their journey, and he knew she was embarrassed by her un-cleanliness. But he was so irked by her constant hostile attitude, that he just couldn't help having a jibe at her expense.

Legolas was very glad that he had not thought of that jest during their exchange and spoken it aloud. As funny as it was to him, she would certainly not have found it so, and he would have succeeded in increasing the animosity between them. That was definitely something that did not need to occur.

In the meantime, Buffy, satisfied with her unmet challenge, headed towards the injured prisoner and muttered to herself, "It's time to bring out the Jack Bauer in Buffy." Buffy really related to that character very well. _24_ was one of her favorite shows, when she had time to see it. It was kind of embarrassing actually, because she had this fantasy of meeting up with Jack and kicking butt alongside him and then making out. Silly dream really, since he was old enough to be her father, even her stepfather, plus he was fictional and all.

Focusing her attention on the task at hand, Buffy shook off all thoughts of Agent Bauer, and fixed an aloof expression on her face as she sauntered up to the bound Uruk-Hai. The creature had put up quite a struggle against his bindings after the twins had first tied him up, and he shouted obscenities at them for quite awhile before running out of steam. The guys told her that they had used a special rope made by the Elves which was deceptively strong for it was very light and silky. It also tended to make beings like orcs extremely uncomfortable, which was the reason, along with his mortal wound that the orc gave up his struggles so easily.

She stared at it for a few moments before speaking. It was bleeding slowly from an injury to the femoral artery, (assuming it had one) in its thigh, so Buffy guessed it had an hour or two to live before it bled out completely. She shifted her gaze from its face to the wound and back again, sizing up the stakes. Buffy sat on her haunches, looking the creature square in the face, although it did not look at her.

"Got a name?" she asked quietly. The orc did not reply, it only growled softly. "Well I can't just call you 'Grr Arrgh'."

It still did not answer her or look at her. "Fine," she said resolutely. "If you don't wanna be friends, I'll come up with my own name for you. How about…Ugly?" No response. "Smelly?" No response. "Sunshine?"

At that, the Uruk looked up and snarled. "There you go!" Buffy cheered. "I'll call you Sunshi-"

"Razgnasch!" the Uruk barked at her testily.

"Hey, what do you know, it talks," Buffy replied with a self-satisfied grin. "Raz, uh Razgash it is."

"What do you want, bitch?" it spat.

"Woah, language! Gonna have to wash that mouth out with soap. Then again, no thanks." Buffy tossed her hair over her shoulder insolently, and began her interrogation. "So Razgarn," she said absently, examining her dirty fingernails, "Where were you and your buddies headed to with all the treasure?"

The Uruk only growled in reply.

"See, now we could go on like that all night, me asking politely, you growling, it gets old. So how about we change things up a bit?" Buffy went for her axe, and brandishing it at the creature, she continued. "We could, I don't know, play a game of which part should I cut off next every time you don't answer me. How's that sound?"

"You could cut off every limb, I don't care! I'll never tell you!"

Buffy was truly baffled for a moment. The thing in front of her seemed awfully sincere with its last statement. And Buffy really didn't have the stomach to cut off body parts for the sake of torture. She thought for a few seconds. "Okay, let's get real, like Dr. Phil. Torture's not really my thing, although I will do it when necessary. How about I just point out the reality here? You're bleeding out. You're going to be dead in a few hours." She gestured to the bodies of slain orcs strewn around them. "Your buddies, they're all dead. What difference does it make to them to tell me what you were up to? What difference does it make to you?"

The Uruk, who had been eyeing her surreptitiously, looked away from her with cold indifference.

Buffy continued despite its apparent inattention. "I can tell you what the difference would be. Would you like to know?" She went on without waiting for a reply. "It's the difference between a really slow, agonizing death, such as the one you're experiencing now, or a nice quick death, courtesy of Mr. Axey here."

"So whaddaya say?"

This time the Uruk summoned all its remaining strength to roar at her savagely. Buffy took a step back out of surprise, but gathered her wits in time to manage not to look intimidated. Instead, she got a little angry.

"Augh, you are so stubborn! What does it take to get through to you?" _If only I could speak its language_- she thought, and then cut herself off, suddenly struck with a brilliant idea.

Buffy sat back down on her haunches in order to be on eye level with the Uruk. "You're fighter, right? I mean, look at you, you were built for it. You're wired to fight, and you probably don't know much else besides that. Well, I guess we have that in common, don't we?"

It turned to look at her in surprise, and Buffy took that as encouragement. "Yeah that's right. You and I, when we go down we want to go down fighting, not quietly bleeding to death or given a merciful send-off by an enemy. So here's the deal: you tell me where you were headed to with all that treasure, and I'll cut you loose. Then you and I, we're going to have a battle to the death. Preferably yours, since you're not going to last much longer anyway, but that's neither here nor there." Buffy stood, twirling the axe around her fingers, waiting for the Uruk's agreement, because she knew she had him.

"We were headed to the mountain fortress of Angmar, Carn Dûm where the son of the Great Goblin dwells, making an army of whoever's left," it said in a resigned voice.

"And this treasure was some kind of a tribute to this son of the Great- wait a minute, _son_ of the Great Goblin? You guys procreate? Ew, bad, bad visual!" Buffy shuddered at the picture forming in her mind. "There are girl goblins? And you- ew, that's just gross!"

The Uruk uttered a foul laugh that encompassed everything Buffy was trying not to think about. "I was formed by a union between a goblin man and a human woman," it told her lasciviously and then laughed again at her horrified expression.

"Okay, enough!" Buffy held out her hand to silence him, but he just kept laughing. "Is that it then, bringing goodies to the new leader and then you're going to, what, march on some nice place and unleash hell on humans and Elves just because?"

It stopped laughing at that. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess. Well, I guess a deal's a deal." She sighed, and raising her axe over her head, she brought it down to cut the creature's bonds.

Legolas, Elrohir and Elladan had observed the entire exchange, and were not happy with Buffy's decision to strike a deal with the orc. Before she cut the creature free, one of them shouted for her to wait, but it was too late. The bonds were cut and the Uruk-Hai was freed.

It staggered to its feet, weakened by its blood loss. Buffy backed up a few steps, making ample space between her and the hostile creature as it drew up to its full height. She pulled a weapon from the stiff hand of a dead orc, and tossed it to the Uruk. It caught the blade deftly and gave it a few practice swings.

The yellow eyes of the Uruk gleamed in satisfaction, and he stuck out his chest and threw his head back, letting out a terrible battle cry. It lunged for Buffy, and in one swift move, she sidestepped it and took its head off with her axe.

"Done and done."

***

Dawn Summers took a huge, overflowing bite of her chocolate pudding, making sure she got at least three Gummi Bears in one mouthful. Tara had suggested banana, or maybe some sprinkles, but Dawn couldn't help but enjoy the look of disgust on the witch's face when she dumped an entire bag of the gooey candy into the bowl.

Besides, weird food combos were her thing, her mark of distinction, really. There were only so many ways to let off some steam and express herself creatively and this was one of the best. She couldn't hang out with a bad crowd, start smoking cigarettes or skip school in order to proclaim her teenager-ness, so why not Gummi Bears and chocolate pudding?

Taking another bite, she sighed inwardly, thinking how hard it was not to put even a toe out of line these days. She had to be Miss Straitlaced and a model student as well, so that child services and the principal of her school would have no reason to contact Buffy. It was difficult enough, making up illnesses and "business" trips as excuses for her sister's absence at parent teacher meetings without adding to it with delinquent behavior.

It was normally her habit to act out when things got super-hard, and considering her life so far, no one could really blame her for it. Discovering her Keyness the year before and also losing her mother on top of it was traumatic enough, but her present situation could have driven her over the edge. Buffy had died to save her and the world, and then suddenly come back to life, only to disappear again into a parallel universe.

Dawn missed Buffy intensely, as much as she missed her mother and sometimes she wanted to explode with anger at the unfairness of it all. But instead, she simply spooned more pudding into her mouth and headed to the living room to see what was on TV. She'd done her homework so she was entitled to a little R and R.

As she rounded the corner from the kitchen, Dawn noticed something out of the ordinary. At first she couldn't put her finger on what was wrong, but then she heard the noise, and then saw the tiny light, shimmering in the middle of the air almost right in front of her face. It seemed to be making a high-pitched tinny sort of noise.

Dawn stared at the light, her spoon frozen in mid-air. It was like the reflection of a watch on the wall, but not on the wall and moving erratically like she would expect. It was just hanging there, and as she watched it, it started to grow bigger and glow brighter and the noise got louder and more piercing.

Dawn gripped her spoon tightly, transfixed by the glowing orb of light, her heart racing, but unable to move. Without warning, the light exploded, sending her and her pudding flying backwards into the wall. She screeched, blinded by the white light, and flung her arms over her eyes.

"Tara!" she cried out, still unable to bear the whiteness of the light or the piercing blare that seemed to come from the heart of it.

And just as suddenly as the light had flared, it disappeared, leaving a strange echo in Dawn's head. Slowly, she uncovered her eyes, blinking them to clear away the spots. She drew her arm across her face, wiping away the tears the light had induced, and looked around.

The first thing she noticed was the pudding and the Gummi Bears. It was all over the carpet, and pieces of the shattered bowl lay nearby. She was still holding the spoon. Then she looked to where the light had been, and directly underneath it, clutching a large round object, laid Willow. The spoon dropped to the floor.

"Tara!"

***

Willow lay on the floor, completely unconscious. After Tara had responded to Dawn's distressed cries, they had stood frozen in shock and uncertainty. Eventually, Tara recovered, and tentatively approached her ex-girlfriend's prone body, checking to see if she was alive. To her vast relief, she was with her breathing and pulse was both strong and steady.

"What is that thing she's got?" Dawn asked shakily as she stood up to brush herself off. "It looks like a giant marble."

Tara looked at the object in Willow's arms, noticing it for the first time. "I have no idea," she muttered, and reached down to take it from her. At her touch, the thing let out a faint flash of light, and Tara immediately drew her hands back. She looked up at Dawn, who was staring at the orb with something like fear.

"Get that thing out of here," she said apprehensively. "Get rid of it or put it away or something, I don't want to look at it!"

"O-Okay," Tara said reassuringly. "But I'm not sure I should touch it." She looked around for something to wrap around the orb.

"Well, I'm not touching it!" Dawn exclaimed as she backed up nervously. Something about that orb frightened her to her very core, but of course she had no idea why. She just needed to get away from it.

Tara ran to the china hutch, and grabbed a tablecloth. She unfolded it and picked up the orb with the cloth masking her hands. Looking for a good place to stash it, her eyes fell on the weapons chest.

"Open it for me, would you?"

Dawn reached over from her position near the wall, and opened the chest by a corner, staying as far away from Tara as she could without falling over. As soon as Tara placed it inside, Dawn slammed the lid down and quickly flipped the latches closed, backing up fearfully as soon as she was done.

Tara looked at her in alarm. The orb made her nervous too, but only because she surmised it gave Willow the power to teleport all the way from Oregon to Sunnydale. Anything that could do that was something to be very careful around, but Dawn was acting like it was going to bite her.

However, Tara chose not to question her at the moment, because they needed to take care of Willow immediately. She approached the unconscious witch again, this time gingerly turning her over onto her back. When she saw Willow's face, she drew back with a loud, shocked gasp. Willow's grayish and drawn appearance horrified both her and Dawn. It looked like someone had tried to suck the spirit right out of her, so hollow and gray was her skin. If she hadn't checked Willow's vitals earlier, Tara would have thought she was dying.

"Help me get her to the couch, and then go get a blanket," Tara ordered. Dawn forgot her fear from before, and rushed to help. She got a blanket from the linen closet and a glass of water with a straw.

"What do we do now?" Dawn asked as she stared at Willow with concern.

"I think we should call Giles," Tara answered assuredly.

The next ten hours waiting for Giles and Xander to return were grueling. Willow's condition didn't change much in that she never fully woke up. They got her to take a little liquid, and helped her to the bathroom where she was almost always violently sick, but for the most part, she stayed on the couch and slept. Her color did not improve, and Tara and Dawn had nothing good to report to Xander who kept phoning every hour for updates.

At last, Giles and Xander came wearily through the front door, accompanied by a strange and fascinating personage. Xander had warned them that they were bringing a very angry Elf home with them. They had a lot of information to convey, but first the Elf wanted his property back.

The Elf stormed through the doorway, having endured a ten-hour ride speeding down the interstate with the people who had disrupted his solitude and peace of mind. Tara and Dawn stepped backward awkwardly as he seemed to search the room. His piercing, grey eyes fixed on Dawn's eyes sharply for a moment. He looked her up and down with a fierce curiosity before resuming his search and landing finally on Willow's exhausted and wilted form.

Giles and Xander came forward as well, gazing sadly at Willow, looking almost afraid to do so. Giles looked at Tara, and she screwed up her courage to speak in front of this enigmatic Elf.

"She's been sleeping nearly this whole time. I can't wake her. Not even when we get her to take a little water or take her to the b-bathroom. S-she's been really sick. I think we need to call a doctor," Tara's voice broke at the last of this, and Dawn put her arms around her comfortingly.

"No doctor will be able to cure what is wrong with her," Doran stated softly. Looking at her haggard face, Doran's heart had softened, and he took pity on the witch. What she had done to him was reprehensible, but what she had done to herself was even worse, and he resolved then and there to help her.

He looked up at Tara and Dawn who were still quite apprehensive of him. "The palantír. Where is it?"

Dawn shakily pointed to the weapons chest. "Please, take it. I don't like that thing."

The statement caused Doran to glance at her sharply again, which caused Dawn to get more jumpy, and she backed up a few steps before her fifteen-year old stubbornness kicked in and refused to be cowed.

"Why do you keep looking at me like that? It's giving me serious wiggins."

Xander, weary to the bone, went to Willow's side immediately and took her hand. "She's cold. Shouldn't we get her to her bed?"

"I will take her, if someone will show me the way," Doran volunteered.

"No way, buddy. You've been jonesing for a vendetta all the way from Oregon, and I'm not letting you touch her!" Xander cried accusingly.

"Xander, I think he just wants to help," Tara told him quietly. Even though the stranger intimidated her, she could tell by his aura that he could be trusted.

"Yes, that is precisely what I want. I promise you that I only wish to help your friend." With that, Doran gingerly picked Willow up in his arms and waited for someone to lead him to her room. Tara stepped forward and led him up the stairs.

Silence pervaded the room like a dark cloud. No one seemed to have anything to say, or perhaps they were all too drained from the days' events to talk. That didn't stop Xander from saying something irrelevant.

"Why is there pudding everywhere?"

Before anyone could answer, or smack him, Tara and Doran came down the stairs together, the Elf looking thoughtful and somewhat worried.

"Mr. Giles, I understand from Lorne that you run a shop for magical paraphernalia and sundries," Doran stated rather than asked. When Giles nodded, he asked for an assortment of healing herbs and potions, and Giles went to the telephone to ask Anya to gather the items and set them aside for him.

"Giles, what's wrong with Willow? What happened to her?" Dawn asked hesitatingly. She almost didn't want to know.

"Nothing good, I'm afraid, though that's painfully obvious," Giles told her with a sigh. He removed his glasses, and pressed his hand to his eyes.

Quietly, he began to tell them of Willow's involvement with the warlock named Rack. "She's been going to him for some time now, I'm sorry to say," he said with a worried glance toward Tara. The blonde witch's face had turned terribly white, and she sank into a nearby chair, weakened from shock and disappointment.

"I've heard of him," she said, her voice laced with despair. "I never dreamed she'd go to him in a million years." Tara's voice broke and she buried her face in her hands.

Dawn moved to comfort her, but she looked at Giles in puzzlement. "What did this guy, this Rack do to her?"

Giles hesitated before answering, but he figured Dawn was old enough to know the specifics. "He's a sort of black magic dealer. Much like a drug dealer, but instead of taking money, he takes something from his clients. Part of their essence, I suppose, and replaces it with his own twisted brand of magic. It gives them a charge or a sort of high, I think, but over time it becomes like a disease."

"We will need to thoroughly cleanse her of that refuse before she can be truly well again," Doran added solemnly. "But I assure you, I know many healing methods from my homeland, and I can make her well. She only needs to stop going to this magic dealer."

"Oh, she'll stop alright. She'll stop even if I have to kill her," Xander vowed vehemently.

"But what about her just appearing- 'poof' in the living room?" Dawn queried. "Isn't that what knocked her out?"

Giles stood up and began to pace. "To a certain degree, I should think so. Traveling through space like that is extremely tricky and certainly packs a wallop."

"What was that thing she was holding?" Tara had recovered her senses for the moment, and was sitting back in the chair.

Doran took this question, explaining what the palantír was, and why Willow had taken it. "She believes it could help her open a doorway into Arda, where your friend is. I do not know whether she is right or wrong, but I do know it's power is unstable, and trifling with it is extremely dangerous-"

"But if it could help bring Buffy back…" Dawn whispered. "I mean, I don't know why I don't like that…pal-thingy, but if it's the only way, can't we try _something_?"

Doran heard the desperation in the child's voice and he was instantly sorry that he had no good news to bring her. He was sure it should not be he who told her that it was unlikely that her sister was ever coming back, and he hoped that someone here that she trusted would tell her the truth.

He looked significantly over at Rupert Giles, who shifted uncomfortably before standing up and clearing his throat.

"Dawn, it- it may be that-"

"Giles, don't!" Xander interrupted. "We don't know anything for sure. Don't break her heart."

"She needs to hear the truth," Doran said firmly.

"How do you know what she needs?" Xander snapped. "She's just a kid, and if you knew everything that's happened to her the last couple of years, you'd want to keep quiet."

"Guys!" cried Dawn. "Standing right here, and I kinda already guessed that you've got something bad to tell me, so you might as well go ahead. I can take it." Dawn stood bravely, crossing her arms and taking in a deep breath, wanting to appear stronger and more grown up than anyone thought she was.

Giles nodded, feeling that the truth or what they had surmised of it needed to be said. "We don't know all the facts, but we have here an authority on the realm that Buffy was taken to," he said, gesturing to Doran. "He believes that a very powerful entity, a benign deity really, offered Buffy a place in that world in order to provide relief for her suffering. As far as he knows, that is the only way to gain entry into that place."

"So, what you're saying is, Buffy got this offer- to leave this world and live in that one…and she took it?" Dawn's voice broke a little bit, and she tried to keep up her brave façade. She felt Tara reach for her hand, and she took it gratefully.

"You must realize Dawn, that the trauma of her death and subsequent resurrection, not to mention being torn from heaven had put her in a very deep despair," Giles gently reminded her. "Whatever she was feeling at that moment, it must have been completely overwhelming, and the offer of a haven from those emotions must have been a welcome relief. She obviously didn't think it through."

"Okay," She turned tearful eyes to Doran. "Are you sure about this? I mean, we don't really know what happened, so you could be wrong."

Doran nodded slowly, carefully measuring his words. "I only know this: I was in great despair when I was offered a place in this world, and it was given to me by one of the Valar. I suppose you would refer to them as gods of some sort. Her compassion reaches beyond the confines of her world and this one, and she is the only way I know to travel between them.

"If your Willow attempted to open a door, I don't know that she would be successful. The palantír is a powerful but unstable tool, and I don't know exactly how it would work. She seems to think it is the key to your sister's return, but you have to consider-"

"The Key!" Dawn gasped aloud, gripping Tara's hand a little too tightly. "_I'm_ the Key! Giles, what if- what if Willow could somehow use me-"

"Absolutely not!"

"No way, Dawnie!"

"Dawn, no!"

Tara, Giles and Xander all spoke their vehement denials at the same moment. No one wanted to see Dawn sliced open in a vain attempt to bring Buffy back. Only Doran remained silent.

"Guys, it's not like she has to bleed me dry. Maybe-maybe only a little of my blood, Buffy's blood could help-"

"Dawn, what you're saying makes sense, in a way, but let's not be rash," Giles admonished. "We don't know enough about the Key to make use of it, or even if in fact you still are the Key."

"Let's do some research, then. What about the Council? They knew stuff about Glory, they might know about me."

"Woah, Dawn. The Council? Think about what they'd do to you if they knew," Xander warned her. "It's like the FBI and extraterrestrials. They'd probably stick you in a cage and perform experiments or something." He looked around at the incredulous faces about him. "I saw Alien Autopsy. I know what I'm talking about."

"Will someone tell me what this Key business is all about?" Doran asked, completely lost.

"Uhh…well…?" Xander replied uncertainly. "Anyone wanna take this one?"

Giles stepped forward, ready as always to be exposition man. "Dawn…is an ancient, well, her original form was not that of a human girl, in fact she was um, a mystical sort of energy with the power to tear down the walls between all existing dimensions. No one knows how or why the Key was created, but an ancient order of monks protected it for centuries."

"I see, and how did Dawn become…what she is now?"

"Well, the monks grew fearful of a hell god named Glorificus. She had been banished from her dimension, and she sought the Key in order to return. The monks transformed the Key into a human girl, and sent her to the Slayer, Buffy, that is, in the form of a sister, complete with altered memories for all. Astounding, don't you think?" Giles replied with some whimsy. It still sounded rather ridiculous even now after all that had happened.

"Yes, and mind-boggling. And did this have something to do with why your Buffy died?" Doran asked.

"She died because a bloodletting ritual had been started by one of Glory's minions, and the walls between dimensions were beginning to break down," Giles replied.

"Buffy and I realized that the only thing that would stop it, was if my blood stopped flowing," Dawn broke in. "But she wouldn't let me jump. I saw her face change almost the second she knew that it would close if she died. She looked so peaceful. She knew our blood was the same. The monks made me out of her, and if she died by jumping into the portal, then everything would return to normal. And it did," Dawn's control of her tears was beginning to break down. "Except there was no more Buffy."

"Ah," Doran could not think of much else to say. The ultimate sacrifice had been made, and Buffy had been given the ultimate reward. And these foolish people had taken it away from her. He was more than certain now that his theory about Nienna was correct.

"But can you be certain that another bloodletting would not yield the same result?" Doran asked.

"It had to be performed at a certain time and place," Giles said. "If Dawn were to get a paper cut, it wouldn't cause reality to fall apart."

"What if…" Tara spoke up so suddenly and unexpectedly that everyone turned towards her in shock. "What if we did a spell in the exact place and time that Buffy left. Would that work?"

Giles contemplated her suggestion for a few moments. "We'd have to be exactly sure about where and when. And I think Willow is our first priority in any case. She needs to get better, for her own sake but especially if we're going to attempt to retrieve Buffy. I think Buffy is safe enough where she is, so we needn't worry about her at the moment. What's most important is that Willow recovers."

"I agree," Tara said. "But it wouldn't hurt to do a little research and start planning something. I'll help Doran with Willow and do some looking through the books on the side. If you want my help, that is." She looked at the Elf questioningly.

"Of course. After all, you know her much better than I do, and as soon as I have what I need, we can start helping her to get better." He turned to Giles with a look of foreboding. "I cannot help but caution you against attempting to retrieve her. Research if you must, but there is no information here about the palantír. You'll have very little to go on."

Giles nodded curtly. "I understand. But I agree with Dawn. We need to try something. And now that Buffy has been in your world for some time, she may regret her decision. She may even be searching for a way to return."

"That is possible," said Doran. "But if you want to open a door into Arda, you need to know exactly where in Arda Buffy is."

***

The ponies laden with sacks of treasure had slowed them down somewhat, but at last the small company arrived at the Ford of Bruinen. The rushing waters slowed and made a barely-discernable path to the gorge on the other side, and Buffy could see it would take some time to cross it with all the animals.

She gripped the reins of the pony she had been leading, barely believing they had nearly reached their destination. She was dying for a glimpse of it, but had been told that it was hidden deep in the valley between two cliff faces, at which point she had made a silly remark that it should be called the Hidden Valley Ranch, but of course no one understood that.

When they had finally crossed, making several trips for both the animals, and for Gimli, whose footing on the slippery rocks was unsure, Elrohir sighed with happiness. Buffy just sighed with discomfort, because her jeans were absolutely soaked, and she hated wearing wet jeans. But even she could not escape the joy with which the twins expressed themselves at being home again.

"At last," cried Elladan. "We have reached the Edge of the Wild, and shall be home soon, drinking wine in the Hall of Fire."

"Sounds toasty," quipped Buffy. _And really nice,_ she thought to herself. She had been repeating three things in her mind as they had neared Rivendell. _Baths, real food and beds, oh my!_ Her longing for these things increased with every step, and she didn't even have the energy to be mad at Legolas. Buffy was so looking forward to taking a long, leisurely hot bath, and chowing down on something other than Lembas, then curling up on a soft mattress to sleep, that her brain didn't have room to contemplate anything else. Once she achieved those goals, she'd worry about what came next.

However, in some small corner of her brain, something did nag at her. She didn't know how long she would keep punishing Legolas or if it was worth it anymore, as it was giving her pain to keep doing so. Buffy needed him, but she couldn't see much past her anger at this point, so once they were safely aground in Rivendell, she'd give it some time.

The four travelers plus the horses and other beasts of burden trekked on through the canyon. As they neared the bridge, Buffy could hear waterfalls on either side of her, and the sound lifted her heart.

At last, they stopped, just across from the most magnificent house Buffy had ever seen. Lush trees with leaves just beginning to turn red and gold surrounded a palace with white columns and levels upon levels of balconies. She could hear voices raised in song and tears stung at her eyes, but she wasn't sure if it was the light breeze or the sight before her that caused them.

"Behold, Buffy," said Elrohir. "The Last Homely House East of the Sea."

Rivendell, at long last.


End file.
